Amaranth
by Mussimm
Summary: Elissa has her own Keep and crest and a seneschal and everything, she could want for nothing, but even the most modest ambitions can't keep nightmares at bay forever. Alistair/Cousland Nathaniel/Cousland
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**Our Own Seneschal and Everything**

–

Elissa's fist clenched.

Nathaniel had watched her closely the past few weeks. She'd seen any number of atrocities, had her patience tried many times, but the tightening around her eyes was new. He didn't think until that moment he had actually seen her angry. She took most things with wry good humour, no matter how shocking. He might have seen her true mettle when a great spirit dragon had erupted from a long dead skeleton and she had simply gazed up in wonder and noted that she hadn't really expected that.

But now she stood stock still, in a dingy Amaranthine inn, facing a totally innocuous woman, and her fingers curled around a pewter ring with such force that it might bend or break. Maybe that was her intention, to destroy the tainted symbol she'd seen a man die for while his wife was busy cheating on him from the safety of her home. A home Elissa herself fortified.

For one terrible moment Nathaniel thought she might strike the woman down.

The room froze for a beat, then Elissa dropped the ring into the woman's waiting palm and turned away. She walked from the room without another word, and no one questioned her. Even Anders had the good sense not to crack a joke. Nathaniel exchanged a questioning look with the mage, who obviously had no more light to shed on the situation. Oghren kept his eyes straight ahead, uncharacteristically sombre. Maybe he could offer some explanation on what had just happened, but he remained tight lipped.

This was very interesting. The Arlessa was a puzzle, a mess of contradictions. Her every word told of humour, sweetness and a little naïvety, but her actions betrayed a conflicting pragmatism that might have been cynicism. She had no family, when she had conscripted him there had been no sign of friends, but she was sociable and friendly. She seemed to bear him no ill will, for his fathers' actions or his own. A kind woman, and a mighty warrior, but no paladin. This tranquil fury was something new, another piece of the puzzle.

Elissa tried to keep her anger in check. Nida was a fool. A fool with a point. She couldn't begrudge a person that. She'd kept her personal issues out of it for this long, and that had been a wise decision. If she'd given in during the early days to her intense anger she might have executed everyone that Varel put before her for judgement. She didn't need the blood of an innocent idiot on her hands, but if she didn't get out of this inn very quickly that logic was going to become flimsy.

Oghren gave her a nod, approving of her decision. She might have been incensed if it had been anyone else, but the dwarf understood, knew that it had tested her will to walk away, and she appreciated, for the first time, having someone around who had been with her before she was an Arlessa. Grey Wardens traditionally didn't marry for a reason, and she wished she could have given that man in the mines a chance at that dignity.

Elissa frowned. For all her anger, she couldn't remember his name. They'd met him barely a week ago.

Of course the grand irony of all this was that she needed a stiff drink and was walking as nonchalantly as possible away from the only place to get one. Maybe a day or two at the keep would be worthwhile. She had things to do, but not if she couldn't straighten herself out. The last thing the arling needed was a leader looking for blood.

This was stupidity, she decided. The fire that coursed through her veins should be long gone, should have been quelled months ago, and she really thought it had been. She'd never been prone to a short temper. Fergus used to tell her that she had the patience of Andraste herself, Varel seemed to feel that same way, though he was somewhat less enthusiastic about the point than her brother had been. She had been reasonable and eloquent and hardly murdered anyone since leaving Denerim. But one look at that insipid cow's face had her desperate to kill something.

It was the excuses, that was what did it. She wanted to cheat on her husband? That was her business. But she looked so damn earnest telling Elissa how her husband forgot her needs in face of his duty. As if that made it alright, as if she was somehow morally exempt from fidelity.

Nathaniel watched her fume. She looked calmer now, less like a danger to the general populace, but there was still an angle to her eyes that he didn't like, and occasionally she would let out a huff of breath. Definitely a mental debate raging, there.

"Back to the Keep, everyone, we're going to take a day or two."

"Fine by me," said Anders. "I'm pretty sure the blisters on my feet are gaining sentience."

She had a pretty face, Nathaniel decided, and it was a shame to ruin it with such a severe expression.

He'd heard very little of her during his time in Ferelden, and he had been keeping an ear open for news, she had been the object of his ire long enough that he had wanted to know his adversary. Everyone had something to say, but his father's old allies had never met her in person and the rumours varied from the somewhat believable to the utterly absurd. She made company with paragons, kings and maleficarum. She walked the fade like the real world. She travelled with a golem, a Qunari, a prince, an Antivan Crow, a prophet. She carried a sword made from a shooting star, she wore armour brutally stripped from Darkspawn generals who had stolen it from King Cailan.

The one thing he had heard from actual witnesses, the one thing he had seen first hand, was that she had a smile that could melt a golem's heart. A smile easily given, but currently masked by a foul mood brought on by some inconsequential hussy. A mystery.

They walked in silence. Anders was examining the forests around and practically radiating boredom, but the others kept their eyes ahead and their mouths shut. It wasn't exactly relaxed most of the time, but this was borderline ridiculous. And a little frustrating. With no one talking or making eye contact or breathing too loudly, the only thing he really had to focus on were the long strides of the Commander. Long strides with long legs. Long, sleek legs that made her hips dip and sway as she walked.

He cursed himself internally. Just because he hadn't been in any position to be with a woman since he was captured didn't mean he had to give in to baser instincts. Elissa was his commanding officer. Even if he was interested, even if she was interested, it would be the epitome of inappropriate on many different levels. Had to keep his mind out of the gutter. As soon as this talking Darkspawn crisis was resolved there would be plenty of recruits who hadn't killed his father. Now there was an idea.

Elissa almost cheered when Vigil Keep came into view. Her mood had improved for walking, but she wasn't going to kid herself that she was alright to head out on any missions just yet. She'd get piss drunk and then in the morning she'd let Wade pamper her with his finest armour and weaponry, that would make things better again. Actually, she smiled, that sounded like a fine way to spend the next 24 hours.

"Oghren, get the drink ready, it's time you and I did a little celebrating."

"Now there's an order I'm happy to follow."

Elissa watching the dwarf run ahead, closely followed by Anders, but she pressed her palm into the door frame in front of Nathaniel's face, preventing his escape. The rogue raised his eyebrow.

"Ser?"

She grinned. "You know, the last time someone made a practise of watching my rump while I walked, it ended in some fairly public humiliation. It was pretty funny, but I don't think you'd appreciate it happening again."

He turned the most delightful shade of red. "I wasn't... I... how did you...?"

"Now, Nathaniel, you're not the type to be stuck for words," she teased.

"I'm sorry, Commander. It won't happen again."

A smile that would melt a golem's heart, Nathaniel noted. The fact that she was more amused than angry did very little to negate his embarrassment. She bit her lip, trying not to grin too widely at his flustered state.

"At least be more subtle. I thought you rogues were supposed to be stealthy or something."

She took her hand away and started to make her way upstairs.

"Legs." Nathaniel's voice made her turn around to see her wore a slightly mischievous grin. "Can't see anything under that tasset, but you've got very nice legs."

Elissa clamped down hard on the laughter that welled up in her chest. Not funny, that was not funny at all. This was serious. The last thing she needed was recruits thinking she was available for amorous advances, even surprisingly adorable vigilantes like Nathaniel Howe. After Zevran she'd had enough dashing rogues to last her a lifetime, and she certainly didn't need a full regiment of Grey Wardens hitting on her. She was somehow glad, though, that the youngest Howe had decided to strike at her heart in those first days at the Keep. It seemed a little fitting, to see what she might have become if not for the Maker's grace. To greet that alternate self with mercy and a chance at redemption. The youngest Howe and the youngest Cousland, two sides of the same coin, in a way.

Oghren was already waiting in the throne room, filling two cups from the massive cask that she had Rendon Howe to thank for. His spirits seemed a little low, and she supposed she may have given him a bit of a scare back in Amaranthine.

"Tonight, Oghren," Elissa declared, "is going to be the night I drink you under the table."

"Think so, girl?" He laughed. "What makes you think you can do that?"

"You're already halfway there, little man."

"Oh, short jokes, I've never heard any of them before. Less talk, more drink, woman."

Elissa sat down against the wall, Oghren's drinking spot, and chugged her first cup. It tasted absolutely foul, with the kind of paint-stripping qualities of truly potent alcohol. She gasped at the unexpected tang.

"Maker, Oghren, what have you spiked this stuff with?"

"You probably don't want to know." He swilled a mouthful around inside his mouth before swallowing it, like he was trying to wash a bad taste away.

"So how was that dragon takedown?" Elissa asked. This was a newly formed tradition in the new Ferelden Grey Wardens, the rating of killing blows.

"Six," Oghren grunted. "Tops."

"Six? Oh, come on! It threw me at least thirty feet in the air, that's gotta be worth an eight."

"Yeah, but I saw that hit you took to the knee, that knocked it down a couple points."

"Noticed that, huh?"

"Yeah, that had to hurt."

"Yeah, it did. I should go see a healer, get it looked at. Need more healers. And more Wardens. More everything really, need every recruit we can get."

"Saw you keeping the Howe kid after school. He getting handsy?"

Elissa snorted. It was kind of sweet of him to be concerned. "Not everyone goes straight for the grope, Oghren, that's just you."

Sure, now he wanted to play overprotective big brother. She already had a big brother to do that, and he would probably murder Howe on sight instead of ask unassuming questions about whether or not he's handsy. She'd have to remember to sing Nathaniel's praises in her next letter, see if she could do a little peace keeping.

"Sure, sure, you say that now. Next thing I know my sleep's getting disturbed by a bunch of noise that would be coming from _my_ tent if there was any justice in the world."

"Not happening. He's an orphan, suspiciously unattached to anything but the Grey Wardens. He's sweet, a little awkward and has romantic dreams. Not to mention for at least a little while he was obsessed with revenge."

"What's your point?"

Elissa grinned as she refilled her mug. "I'm not falling for that one twice."

Oghren laughed uproariously and toasted her cup. "Smart kid."

The commander looked around the throne room, a pleasant warmth spreading down her chest. She noticed Nathaniel duck out the door and wondered how much of that he'd heard. She didn't really care, she was serious when she said that nothing would be happening there, and if he took that little joke seriously his morale was probably impossible to keep up anyway. She took her new cup more slowly, she didn't want to pass out before Oghren started singing.

She started stripping off her left cuisse and chausse, getting a better look at where the spectral horn had torn through the skin. It was pretty nasty, and Anders was no Wynne when it came to preventing scars, but at least it wasn't oozing or doing anything unexpected. This was all a little pathetic. She'd thought the last time was pathetic, picking up stragglers, anyone who could hold a sword or chant a spell, but then they were a ragtag group of rebels, trying to save an uncaring nation from the Blight. This time they had a fortress and a crest and a seneschal and everything, it was supposed to be a little more dignified, but they were more desperate for men than ever. At least desperate for someone who could make a wound look less... gaping.

"You know what this reminds me of?" She asked the dwarf. "That time with the elves, you remember that werewolf got me on the thigh?"

"Course I remember, you were walking around without pants for a week."

"It was two days."

"Not in my mind, Warden."

"You're disgusting."

Oghren belched and laughed, extending his hand to fill up her cup along with his. "Yeah, we had some good times. You, me, and a whole bunch of other jerks. Coulda done without them. That witch, she kept giving me the evil eye."

"Morrigan? I'm pretty sure that was just how she looked." Great, bringing up Morrigan, that's what she'd hoped for. Like it hadn't hurt enough to see her go, but right after rolling her oats with Alistair, that was a double hit. "Bloody Morrigan."

"Thought you two were friends. What happen, fight over your man?"

Elissa spat out the mouthful she'd just taken and choked on the last drops caught in her throat. A powerful hand thumped her back and her head spun. This alcohol was effecting her more than she thought. "You have such a way with words."

"That I do."

"You know how I got shaken half to death by an ogre yesterday?"

"Yep. That was an eight. Straight through the eye."

"Y'know what everyone else did? They fought the ogre. No questions asked, they just chipped away at his shins while he was using me like a tambourine."

"What'd you expect?"

"Nothing." She shrugged, wondering how the floor ended up at such an odd angle. "Actually pretty happy with it. S'just every time I used to get picked up by an ogre, there was always someone having a heart attack in the background. Cailan was killed by ogre-shake."

"I know whatcha mean. Every time I used to pick up a hammer it was 'careful with that, ya stupid sod!' Now I can pick up a hammer whenever I like. No one acting like I'll put my eye out on the claw."

"See!" Elissa was aware the her voice was rising with the drink. She tried to temper it a little. "You get it. Your wife was all 'duty first', too. Look where that got her. Loopy. An' the people she cared about? Broodmothers. Or drunk. Fat lotta good duty does."

"Yeah. Broodmothers or drunk, thasit." Oghren held up his cup and she happily clinked hers against it. "She thought she was gunna be some amazing smith, bring glory back to Orzammar. Idiot woman. She was always a little stupid. Your prince, though, he was always really stupid."

"Hah!" Elissa laughed genuinely. It was true. He really, really was. "All hail King Alistair. Gunna continue the Theirin line! Like he'd know what to do with a queen if he got his hands on one. I taught him all that. Taught him that thing with his tongue, too."

They laughed together, the sound echoing around the still occupied throne room. People were probably unimpressed with their commander and Arlessa, but they could go to hell, as many Darkspawn as she had killed, she deserved a drink. All Elissa could smell was whatever they were drinking. Whiskey, she thought. The world had taken a pleasant blurry quality, she didn't even mind sitting on the freezing stone. This was the life.

"Didn't take you for a wild child, bein' a Teyrn's daughter and all. Thought you'd be one of those stuck up prudes who had to unbuckle their chastity belt to take a piss."

Elissa snorted in a very unladylike fashion. "Hah, I was basically the only girl in the teyrnir's army. I could have anyone I liked, and I liked more than one. Ser Harris was my first, he was so very, very pretty. We snuck away from one of father's state dinners when I was seventeen. He got transferred out to Gwarren, I guess he's probably dead now."

"No sappy talk, girl!" Oghren belted her on the back in what was probably supposed to be a comforting gesture but actually might have broken a rib or two. "We're celebrating being free of our loopy formers! And King Alistair's prosperous reign. What was that song the Orlesian girl wrote about him?"

_Ballad of the Golden King_, Elissa informed him, and together they launched into a rousing chorus, describing how the king single-handedly slew every Darkspawn in Ferelden, forged peace with all the races and made love to every young woman in his path, never getting a single hair out of place along the way. The ballad was interrupted by hiccups and snickering laughter, Elissa couldn't believe that Leliana had written this tripe. Of course she'd been consulted for permission beforehand, the Orlesian believed it would lend the new King some support if they played up and publicised his role in ending the Blight. Elissa had never imagined this, though.

"_He put down the demon like a knight of old, that king they call Alistair the Gold..._" They finished together and broke into hysterical laughter.

"You know, I don't remember him being declared a paragon," Oghren laughed.

"And I'm just sad I missed him rescuing all those poor orphans."

"And saving the princess in the fade."

"Oh, no, he totally did that."

"You're kidding me."

Elissa barely managed to get out words with the laughter bubbling from her lips. "He fell over my feet and the desire demon was so surprised that she didn't even block the sword he accidentally pitched straight through her chest."

Another cup was shoved into her hands, and she knew she should stop, but this was the first fun she'd had in months. There had to be some advantages to being at the head of this outfit. All she'd heard since the night Rendon Howe betrayed her was what she couldn't do. Couldn't leave the Blight to other people, couldn't wait for Orlesian help, couldn't walk away from this nightmare, couldn't sleep through a whole night without nightmares, couldn't go find her brother, couldn't return home, couldn't leave Loghain to the proper authorities, couldn't have children...

Elissa accepted another cup, then another.

Couldn't have anything even close to a normal life. Couldn't even stop the man she loved from walking straight out of her life like she'd never existed. It didn't matter how sharp her sword was, how full her purse, how enormous her reputation, she was utterly powerless, helpless against the machinations of something much larger than herself. The least they could give her was a night to get wasted with a comrade.

It was long after she'd lost the ability to see straight or hold herself upright that she felt arms wrap around her, lifting her off the ground. Nathaniel gave her a tolerant smile, offering no explanation for his actions, and she replied with a broad grin. The way he walked made her seasick, each step a rolling wave, especially when he took her upstairs but she wasn't about to try to walk it herself. She couldn't say what happened to Oghren, their conversation had died out a couple of drinks ago, she supposed he'd found his way back to bed as well.

"Do you need help with your armour?"

Elissa laughed. "Yeah, I guess I do. You won't mention this to the others, right? No one needs a drunk commander."

"Your secret is safe with me."

He went to work on her armour, taking each piece off carefully so as not to jolt her. The weight lifting off her was such a relief, she sometimes forgot how heavy full plate could be, especially on very drunk young women. She might have felt awkward about this if she was sober, or a few years younger, but it just seemed so routine now. She couldn't count how many times her modesty had been compromised due to a wound or poison, at least this time she was wearing full underclothes.

Nathaniel watched the hiccuping commander while he worked. He wondered if she knew how sad she looked. He hadn't heard much of the conversation between her and Oghren, but it didn't seem sad. There was plenty of laughter and a bit of truly awful singing that would have seen them hung in any other court, but nothing he could discern to account for the truly wretched frown on her face.

"Do you want to talk about it?" That wasn't really appropriate, but over such a short time with this woman he could easily see that this was not a normal or healthy mood for her.

"Hmm?"

"You've been out of sorts since returning that ring to Nida, would you like to talk about it?"

Elissa sunk down onto her bed, now fully relieved of her armour. She gave him a crooked smile. "It's nothing, I'll be fine."

"It doesn't look like nothing."

"I... once loved a man." She blushed, like that was something foolish. "He wanted a wife and all I could be was a Warden."

Ah, that explained a lot. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Can't have been true love, right? Or we'd have made it work. S'just one of those things that happens."

She snuggled down into her bedding and Nathaniel frowned. In the few weeks he'd been travelling with her, for all her complaining and joking around he'd not once taken her for genuinely unhappy. He didn't believe for a second that this was just some fling that had ended badly, especially if there had been talk of marriage.

"I'll let you get some sleep. Goodnight, Commander."

"Night," she mumbled into her pillow.

He leaned down and pulled the blankets over her, tucking her in like he used to do his sister, then left the Arlessa to her sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Bargaining For Scores Is Cheating**

–

Amaranthine was silent.

Elissa watched the streets from the chantry window. Completely empty except for the bodies, some she had killed, some civilians she hadn't been able to save. They should have told her. They'd been ravaged by Darkspawn sickness for days, and not a word had been sent to her. She could have told them about the smugglers caves, could have started an evacuation, could have done _something_. Now her friends were fighting and dying because she couldn't defend both strongholds at once. Those stone walls had better hold, she wasn't above hunting Voldrik down in the fade and killing him twice.

It would be alright. Sigrun, Justice and Velanna would keep the hold standing. She'd made the right decision. Civilians first. She couldn't abandon the capital to run back and defend her own Keep, no matter how strongly the army objected. They could just get over it, she knew about sacrifice, it was hard, but you just did it and didn't think too hard about the future without the things you'd given up.

"That's a very severe look you're giving the empty street."

Elissa whipped around and relaxed as she saw Nathaniel browsing the bookcase. "Just keeping it in check."

"That was a tough decision you made today. Saving Amaranthine, I mean."

She sat down on her bedroll with a heavy sigh. Nathaniel would understand if anyone would.

"Do you have a problem with it?"

"No, but it does confuse me. Vigil's Keep is your home."

"Grey Wardens sacrifice themselves to save cities, we don't sacrifice cities to save ourselves."

"I'm not questioning you." He sat down across from her on folded legs. Elissa nodded, he was trying to be an open ear for her to whinge to, which was a very tempting thought.

"I just don't want to talk about this, I'm going to be explaining this decision to people for months. I'm sure there's going to be at least one clear cut choice in my life, and when it comes, I'm going to hold a damn parade."

Nathaniel laughed, a pleasant enough sound. Elissa couldn't help but smile. She'd never expected to become friends with the son of Rendon Howe, but here she was. He'd been a comfort and a boon to her, she should probably take the time to thank him for vandalising her Keep one of these days, if he hadn't she'd have to put up with Anders and Oghren without any buffer room. Now there would have been a group that ended up lost with no pants.

"Then tell me about something else."

He wouldn't quite meet her eyes as he spoke, his lean fingers threaded together in what she thought to be a little bit of anxiety. Elissa cocked her head, smiling.

"What would you like to know?"

"Tell me about an orphaned Grey Warden who is sweet, a little awkward and has romantic dreams. Possibly one obsessed with vengeance."

Ah. So he remembered that, apparently. She wasn't completely sure what she'd said that night, but it pleased her that the pain in her chest was more like a knife wound than an explosive grenade, the kind of pain she could smile around and talk around. Figures he'd remember her half-drunken rambling when no one seemed to be able to hold onto information like 'flank them, don't rush them' or 'stay out of the Maker damned wine for one night'.

"He was an ex-templar of some note. Very skilled in killing mages, cracking jokes and making me want to light myself on fire."

"On fire? I see."

Elissa laughed and shook her head. "So infuriating. He could never stay serious for more than about three minutes at a time, and this was during a Blight, there were situations that called for gravity. But he was sweet and funny, and an amazing leader when he put his mind to it."

"I didn't think templars generally took wives." Nathaniel's tone was even, testing the waters and not pushing her to talk if she didn't want to. She could joke her way out of it if she needed to, he was giving her that space. Well, she wasn't about to tell him that the man was the High King of Ferelden, but she was comfortable talking with him about some of it.

"They don't, I guess. I wouldn't really know. The Blight changed things. You get the speech when you sign up, you know, Grey Wardens do their duty, no matter what that means. And sometimes it means some pretty amazing things. Sometimes you have to choose the king of Orzammar without having any idea on his policies or personality. That was fun. Or you drink some crazy blood juice in the old Warden's Keep that lets you spurt blood out of your elbows when needed. My templar needed an heir, that was his duty, and I couldn't give him one."

"That seems a little callous."

"Isn't it, though?"

Elissa realised that a tear had trickled down her cheek without her noticing. She tried to shake it away, but her companion reached out and smoothed her cheek with his fingers. She blushed, unused to such contact. Neither moved for a moment, their eyes locked, then he snatched his fingers back.

"I'm sorry, that was inappropriate."

"No, it's..." There was no way to tell him what she was thinking without sounding like a mad woman. It was nice to feel blood running under someone's skin instead of splattered across her face. It was nice to feel muscle and sinew intact and working instead of squelching under her fingers. "I kind of gave up on appropriate a while ago."

Nathaniel smiled. "I can see why. I don't know what I really expected on returning to Amaranthine, but it wasn't this. You know I trained for years in the Free Marches, and never had a fraction of the adventure I've with you over the last month. Fate is funny like that, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry for what happened."

"What?"

Elissa took a deep breath. She'd been thinking about this for weeks. Rendon Howe had just been 'Howe' in her mind for so long, but that was no longer fitting. She'd been insane with rage for that man, she'd torn apart an entire country just to get to him. But he wasn't 'Howe' anymore. Nathaniel was Howe. As in 'Howe, take out that archer.' 'Howe, come get some food before Oghren finishes the lot.' 'You're with me, Howe, let's rescue a city.' Howe was one of the many who was caught up in the war, his family killed, his lands and title stripped. One of the many who came home to nothing, who had nothing to come home to, just like her.

"I'm sorry for the part I played in what happened to you. You were blameless in all of this and you didn't deserve to have your life taken from you."

"I... Thank you." He looked completely dumbstruck by her sudden confession. His lips pursed, his brow furrowed. "I wanted to ask you something, and I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but he was still my father. You probably think me foolish for still having it on my mind, but did he... did he suffer? At the end?"

Elissa leaned back heavily against the stone wall. There weren't any answers here that he'd like, but he might never sleep soundly again if he didn't know how it ended. She could do that for him. She tried to keep her face and voice neutral, the events like a historical account.

"He had Anora hostage. Queen Anora, at the time, and not so much a hostage as bait. I still don't know what exactly they were trying to accomplish, but we had to take the magical barrier off the door one way or another and the mage was at his side. Myself, an assassin named Zevran, the witch Morrigan and... and a templar, we confronted him but there was no possibility of a peaceable solution. We killed the mage first, then his bodyguard. Howe was a tough blighter, if it hadn't been all four of us I might have been there all afternoon. He fought until the end, never tried to surrender, and although he didn't feel he had been paid his due by this end, he died as a warrior. There was no cruelty."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. She watched him digest the information, hoping it might bring him some peace. He closed his eyes, she wondered if he was trying to picture this all happening. It didn't hurt to talk about Rendon Howe anymore. Her family was better than to be taken apart by the likes of him, and he wasn't worth her reverie.

"You said there was no hope of a peaceable solution." Nathaniel spoke suddenly, surprising her. "You would have tried? There was a chance of my father walking out of there alive?"

"I... Well..." Elissa blushed furiously.

_Your compassion shames me._

The voice of the paragon Caridian rung in her ears.

"You would have let him walk away?"

"No. I wouldn't have just let him go. But his death didn't solve anything, it certainly didn't bring my family back, maybe there was some penitence he could have made, I don't know. But he was so set on destroying the Cousland house entirely that there was no chance, one of us wasn't walking out of there."

Yep. He was looking at her like she'd lost her mind. He wasn't really that outraged that she would have liked to show his father mercy, was he?

"You think he could have been redeemed? You would have even given him that chance, the chance to go out into the world and wreak more havoc?"

She scowled. "I don't have to explain myself to you, I'm your commanding officer."

Nathaniel sighed and ran his hands through his hair, looking around the room while he calmed himself. He was holding some raging internal monologue, she was sure, but he seemed to get a little more composed.

"Then don't tell me because I'm your grunt, or an interested party. Tell me because I'm your friend. We are friends, aren't we?"

"Yes, I suppose we are. I wasn't about to let Howe go back to his throne room and plot my demise, but who knows? He might have done some good with his life had it continued. I don't believe that evil runs unchecked. I know that might be hard to believe, considering all we've seen, but I just don't."

"Then what do you believe?"

"What do you believe?" she countered.

"Me? I believe justice must be swift and unyielding. I believe traitors have to die."

Elissa cocked her head, assessing him. Yes, he was serious. That wasn't an unreasonable point of view, and certainly better than a few she'd come across in her travels. The most common and unsettling point of view seemed to be that a person's life was only worth what they could do for more powerful people. Morrigan had thought that there was no way Arl Howe could ever be useful to them. Zevran had thought he posed a threat and should therefore be put down. Alistair had thought a simple death was too merciful, that there was no punishment too great for his treachery.

"She wields the broken sword and separates true kings from tyrants."

"What?"

"Archon Hessarian said that to me. Yes, _the_ Archon Hessarian. Maybe I could have picked a better font of knowledge, but he was speaking of mercy. If you kill and kill and just keep killing until everyone who isn't worthy of living is dead, then what? I don't believe more death is the only way, I don't believe in the Maker, but I know there's something better than a sword to carve a new path with. People have the ability to heal, I've seen it."

Nathaniel nodded slowly. "Archon Hessarian converted after Andraste's death. Do you think... my father would ever have done something good for the world, if he had lived?"

"I'd like to think so. Maybe I'm just naïve."

"I wouldn't have thought the same, but I'm humbled to know someone so merciful."

Elissa found herself feeling a little sick at her confession. Her father had begged her for vengeance as he died, and she had fulfilled that promise. There was no point thinking on what might have been, no point in wanting redemption for some hypothetical alternate to the man himself, and she couldn't believe that she had just confessed that to his son. Her stupid, naïve belief in people's goodness had cost more than a few people their lives. And it hadn't stood up when Loghain might have been saved and redeemed.

"Don't. How did we get to talking about such a sombre topic? We should be bragging about our conquests or taking bets on how many we'll kill tomorrow, that's what friends do before battle."

She looked into Nathaniel's eyes and found they brooked no humour. She could almost feel his contained blood under her fingertips. Warm, lean, constant. He really did admire her unreasoning faith. He understood, like her he had no home to run to, no one to turn to if the world fell down around his ears. He knew what it meant to make the world what he wanted it to be.

"This may be too bold, my lady, but I'm not sure I want to be friends."

For a moment time seemed to stand still, the words filtering into Elissa's brain one by one, then coalescing together and finally the meaning sinking in. The first reply that came to her mind was to ask him if this was because she had nice legs, but she crushed that thought, she wasn't going to joke her way through this. It made people want to light themselves on fire.

Their fingers touched, threaded together. It was tentative, they stayed seated a few feet apart, like youths who didn't quite know how their bodies fit together, leg over thigh, hands wound through hair, so they could touch and kiss easily. His fingertips brushed her cheek and she blushed. She pushed herself forward, kneeling between his legs. The undignified rush of past couplings was nowhere to be found, each touch was deliberate and careful, hands placed strategically, almost awkwardly, to bring them closer.

Their noses touched and Elissa took the first step, bringing her mouth over his. It was just a touch of lips, then they broke, eyes meeting, judging the situation. She slid a hand over his shoulder, down his back. The artery in his neck thrummed in the crook of her elbow. Alive, whole and strong, warm to the touch. His arms wrapped around her waist, bringing them together more naturally. Maker, he understood. He understood her, knew her need, knew her hurt. He didn't make pointless apologies, he just proved himself through deed.

Their kisses became fevered, and for the first time in months Elissa could swear her heart was beating again. All this time she thought she needed space, what she really needed was to stop thinking about _him_. It didn't seem to matter that Nathaniel's shoulders and hips were a little narrow, or that his hair teased her neck, her whole body sighed in relief as they inched closer and breathed harder.

He was lean and lithe, strong, all working muscles and flowing blood, untarnished by wounds or burns. The stone didn't seem quite so hard against he back as it could have, the incense in the air smelled sweet and burnt against sweat and leather. She whimpered desperately, alive after months in limbo, her heart beating, feeling returning to necrotic muscle. It burned, skin screaming, a pleasant tingle gone too far until the air around them seemed to crackle with tension so highly strung between them that Elissa thought its breaking might damage them.

The fever broke in whimpers and taut muscles, in screaming sensations that tore through them mercilessly, fresh memory of times too far past for both of them. Elissa tightened her legs around his hips, not giving him an inch to move, to pull away from her and deprive her of his warmth and strength.

When they collapsed, trembling and satisfied, she let Nathaniel wrap his arms around her. Her breathing didn't want to return to normal, and her belly quivered at such exertion from muscles unused for so long, but when she let the Fade claim her, she felt more calm than she could remember.

–

Nathaniel had known her decision before she spoke it. The architect, in all his gruesome glory, watched the Arlessa pace, his gaze even, as if they had all the time in the world. She took more time than any of them were comfortable with coming to a decision, occasionally spouting strings of foul language that would make the most battle worn soldier blush, and left Howe himself a little taken aback, he wouldn't have thought she even knew such language, let alone used it. But she was livid.

The decision was already made. This was a chance to heal, to find a better way, even if it was a long shot. This was mercy. Her long hair flicked like a horse's tail as she shook her head sharply, fingers twisting around each other, teeth bared. Oghren and Anders were beside him, trying to counsel her, insisting that no good would come of this. She shot them looks that instantly shut their mouths.

"You have an ally," she finally said. "For now."

There was a general cry of outrage from the rest of the party, but she locked eyes with Nathaniel, ignoring them. He gave her a slight nod. Once more he couldn't see how she could be so sensible in the face of an age old hate, but that might have been his folly, not hers.

A few quietly muttered words to Oghren saw them on their way.

Elissa was less calm as they moved forward. He wanted to reassure her that he supported her decision, but soon it became obvious that there was more on her mind than what had transpired with the architect. She was sloppy in combat, her blades moving with a fury he couldn't follow. Her killing became more brutal, it was not just the slaying of beasts that stood in her way, now she tore into them with almost barbaric rancour. She was more like a berserker than a skilled dual wielder.

She ripped the spine clean out of a disciple and handed it to Anders, moving away as the white-faced mage looked at the object in his hands and then threw it away with a yelp. Soon the Darkspawn blood began to burn, trickling down the back of his tunic, searing a line of fire between his shoulder blades. All he could smell was the blood and the fire, the scorched lyrium dust from his grenades. All he could see was a field of bodies under a red sky, a flailing future victim down the sight of his arrows.

Elissa moved with purpose, and it was when a high dragon fell atop them from the sky, falling swiftly under her threshing blades, that he identified the emotion that had overtaken her. A sob escaped from her lips as the dragon fell, her left sword clattering out of her shaking hand.

She was terrified.

"Keep it together, Warden," Oghren hissed. "This isn't the deep roads."

Elissa swallowed thickly and nodded, collecting her sword. Another round of Darkspawn fell before them.

Nathaniel had heard at the final battle against the Archdemon the group that had pushed through had been outnumbered a hundred to one, and he hadn't believed it until today. His arms ached from drawing his bowstring again and again, his eyes wouldn't cooperate, wandering when he needed to aim, his body screamed with exhaustion. But he kept going, forcing himself forward. Anders looked like he might combust if he channelled anymore magic from the Fade. Elissa and Oghren showed no signs of fatigue. How many bodies had they left in their wake?

The end came into sight hours later. A pit that Nathaniel could see held some mass of flesh, visible even from their great height. Elissa's eyes tightened. Her lips pressed together so firmly they turned white. Some rotting, infernal stench filled the air.

"When we fight her, I'll go in, nobody else attack her directly, just cover me. Anders, save your lyrium for healing. Don't be conservative with potions and poultices, everyone. Use whatever you need. Oghren, Nate, you have the hard job, keep Anders and I clear and casting, got it?"

Her eyes closed for just a beat, hardly more than a blink. She gripped her swords tightly and headed down the stairs.

The broodmother was monstrous. They had fought abominations both figurative and literal, and nothing prepared Nathaniel for this. She had once been a woman. A woman overtaken by the Taint. His eyes held onto Elissa, knowing why she was afraid now. This is what the Darkspawn would do to her, if they could. As the Taint she intentionally swallowed slowly ravaged her body, maybe she'd turn even if they never laid a hand on her. Oh, Maker, please don't let that happen to her, he begged. Don't ever let that happen to her.

The architect's spirit appeared and they spoke, but the commander never moved her gaze from the broodmother. The beast's words rolled off her back, unquestioned, her sword already brought to bear.

Nathaniel stood well back, and when the hostility started he let arrows fly, one after the other, a second wind brought on by his rage. An army appeared from thin air, tentacles sprouting from the ground, the brood coming to their mother's defence. He tried to keep them down, but there were too many and he could only hit so many at a time without drawing their attention. Oghren's massive blade hewed through them like they were made of paper.

The commander's massacre was a sight to behold. Ripples of power, brought forth from the fade, made the air around her sing. The death of each minion strengthened her as she breathed in their essence, devouring tainted souls to feed her frenzy. She was single-minded. The broodmother bled and screamed, horrific pincers flailing, flicking venom as she tried to fight back.

Nathaniel sent an arrow into the carapace of a childer that tried to attack her from behind. The monster struck out at her in its death throes, sending her helmet skittering across the ground and baring her face. The childer gave a final wheeze and stilled.

The broodmother was tough, taking blow after blow and not faltering. It wasn't until Elissa landed a blow to her face that he knew it was over. The mother screamed, her tattered mouth contorting in rage. She lashed out, catching the commander by surprise. One venomous pincer landed a clear blow to Elissa's face, sending her sprawling. Nathaniel cried out, too late. His insides twisted as she hit the ground, bouncing and rolling until she skidded to a stop almost at his feet.

Blood covered her mouth and nose, and she desperately pulled off one metal gauntlet to bring a hand up, holding her ruined face together. She stood up, the movement agonising to watch, and brandished her sword.

The broodmother screamed.

The commander hurled her sword forward, piercing the monster's head.

Both collapsed.

Nathaniel was at her side, trying to get a look at what damage had been done. There was too much blood, and her hand still weakly protected her mouth. He couldn't see, couldn't tell what to do.

"Anders!" he yelled. "Anders, get over here!"

The mage came skidding to his knees by her side, healing magic already working between his hands. He placed a hand on either side of the commander's face, trying to get through the blood and the mess.

"O'ren," Elissa mumbled.

"The lips are torn through, she's lost two teeth. Cheekbone is intact." Anders said. "And there's some kind of poison, I don't know, it's not something I've seen before."

"O'ren," Elissa repeated. "Shore."

The dwarf was for once devoid of laughter. "Five."

"Fie!"

"I'll knock it up to seven if you do me a favour and pull through this."

"Wan nie."

"Fine, you get a nine if you pull through _and_ manage to get those teeth put back in."

"Dea."

Nathaniel stroked her hair, trying to get her to pull out of shock a bit. She leaned over and spat something into Anders' hand. He opened his palm to reveal two teeth.

"Charming," the mage said.

Nathaniel almost laughed at the supremely satisfied look in Elissa's eyes, but instead he looked at Anders, who was paler than ever. Not the look of a man who was confident in what he was doing.

"You can stop the bleeding, can't you?" Nathaniel asked.

"I'm trying," Anders hissed. "If I don't reattach her lips there's no point."

Nathaniel felt a weight in his hand and glanced down. Elissa squeezed his fingers. This time he let himself chuckle. He was supposed to be comforting her, not the other way around. She'd pull through, she had to. There was no one to take over her place if she didn't. There was no fear in her eyes.

"Okay, I've got it." Anders sighed. "Reattaching now. I think there'll be some scarring, but it's better than losing half your face."

They waited with bated breath, watching the flesh under layers of red moving and shifting, reworking itself. The commander's eyes fluttered closed and her hand went limp in Nathaniel's. For a moment he felt a cold chill of panic, but Anders just shook his head and kept working. Blood loss, not death. He removed his hands, revealing an intact face. He lifted the upper lip and slowly reinserted both fallen teeth, a single charge of healing magic fitting both back into place.

Elissa opened her eyes groggily, looking up at the three anxious faces above her. She smiled, and Nathaniel's heart broke just a little for her. Her smile was crooked, twisted. A mockery of the smile that could make his heart skip a beat. He didn't meet her eyes, not wanting her to see the disappointment on his face.

Together the three men picked her up and began the slow walk back to Vigil's Keep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Uncooperative Hauberkery**

–

Holding court in the arling of Amaranthine had become an intensely entertaining affair. Since the suicide of Bann Esmerelle and the rescue of the city there was an air of reverence from the local Banns, few had enough courage to challenge the Arlessa on any subject, no matter how trivial. Varel had taken something of a back seat in court now, Elissa heading the proceedings. The heads of her burgeoning army, as well as the leaders of the Silver Order, always accompanied her, which might have sounded dignified, but a drunken dwarf, an apostate mage (and his cat), a legionnaire rogue, a dishonoured nobleman, a rotting corpse and an ex-farmer weren't exactly a regal entourage.

Nathaniel watched Elissa sprawled out across her throne, flicking grapes at Anders and looking away innocently whenever he looked back at her. A mabari puppy lay on her belly, yapping happily. How his father would weep to see such behaviour in his throne room. It probably would have livened things up a bit in the old days, he could just imagine Delilah flicking her food at their grandmother.

The new Arlessa's smile had never healed, and the wound had left a noticeable scar running from her right eye down her chin. He didn't think it much marred her beauty. If she had been some insipid noble who care for little other than her hair and dress it would have been horrendous, but on the battle hardened commander it was a mark of glory, matching perfectly with the many identical marks on her armour. She'd managed to get away relatively unharmed apart from that scar, although there might have been a lasting mark made by simply witnessing the monstrous broodmother.

"Nate, can you go check on the rogues training? I caught one trying to sneak into the larder last night, they should be able to hide better than that."

"Of course, commander." He bowed and turned to walk away.

"Nate!"

She looked up at him through innocent eyes, the corner of her lip turning up cheekily. He stifled a grin but placed a quick kiss on her lips before heading for the stairs. She was incorrigible. He looked back for a moment, taking in a glimpse of the long legs flung casually across the arm of the throne, keeping the image in mind to admire while he worked. Now that was worth getting up in the morning for.

The yard was full of knights of the Silver Order, going through Dworkin's extremely entertaining explosives training. The yard was a mess of barricades, one group training in aiming by hurling grenades at the second group, training in dodging and blocking. Anders' mage apprentices stood to the side, wringing their hands in anxious anticipation of the numerous burns they were sure to treat, and Wade could be heard loudly complaining about working under such conditions. Other merchants and soldiers were trying to keep safe distances from the barrage.

He paused to watch as one mistimed grenade hit the prison wall and the entire yard ducked under shields and barricades. The wall exploded in a cloud of tangy smoke and rock chips that rained down on the defending Order. Dworkin roared laughing, admiring his handiwork. Amazingly, as the smoke cleared, the prison wall seemed barely damaged.

"It'll take more than your toys to destroy my walls, Dworkin!" Voldrik, the pint sized engineer called out over the pandemonium.

"Is that a challenge, brother?" Dworking yelled back.

"No." Nathaniel took the situation in hand, pointing a finger at each of the dwarven brothers. "That was not a challenge. No blowing up the Keep."

Both brothers grumbled their assent, allowing the rogue commander to continue out the Keep gates. The rogues were training in the forest today, working on their apparently sub par stealth. He was surprised Sigrun hadn't drilled that into them a dozen times over. He himself was no master of stealth, but the little legionnaire could disappear into an unadorned wall in broad daylight and she was merciless when it came to training.

Nathaniel didn't make it to the forest, though. While everyone had been distracted by the explosion a party of knights had rounded the corner and were heading straight for the Keep. These weren't from the Silver Order, although their armour gleamed in the same light, definitely high quality, and they moved in a strict formation, a golden knight at their head. He watched them approach.

"Watch!" He called out, startling a young recruit up on the wall who was still transfixed by the steady explosions happening behind them. "We have visitors."

"Who goes!" The young man shouted at the approaching party.

"High King Alistair Theirin!" A woman's voice replied.

Nathaniel muttered an epithet under his breath. They weren't expecting a royal visit. He glanced behind him at the utter disarray of the courtyard, knowing that upstairs had probably devolved into a food fight by now. A little warning would have been nice, but he wasn't sure that the Keep could be brought to royal standards even if all hands pitched in over a week. It was a barracks now, not a castle.

"Your majesty."

Nathaniel knelt as he greeted the king. The young royal was almost exactly as his ballad described, handsome, gold skinned and with friendly eyes. The king opened his mouth to speak, but his face stilled as his eyes landed on Nathaniel. It was fairly traditional for the king to command him to rise at this point, to prevent any strain on petitioners, so he was quite surprised when the king did no such thing.

"Maybe I'm mistaken, I've only seen his likeness in pictures, but are you Rendon Howe's son?"

"I am, sire. Nathaniel Howe at your service."

"I see." The king frowned. "And what are you doing here?"

That question came as a bit of a shock. He was used to accusations of treachery and tyranny due to his name, but people generally didn't question why he was in Amaranthine or the Keep.

"I'm a Warden, sire. We reside here."

"A Warden? As in a Grey Warden? The Warden Commander allowed you to become a Grey Warden?"

Ah, so this man knew the Couslands, maybe even knew the Arlessa. He had heard that the king had some part in the Archdemon's slaying, although Elissa assured him that the ballad was full of the most spectacular lies she'd ever heard. She rarely spoke of the king, and always with a note of derision that Oghren was happy to turn into an entire symphony. Nathaniel had to admit that his sore knees were not completely happy with their first impression of the king, either.

"Yes, sire."

"Maker's breath, she's lost her mind. I knew it would happen one day. You can only kill so many Darkspawn without going a little loopy. I suppose she's also recruiting abominations and ogres, now."

"Your majesty." A voice made Nathaniel look back to see his saviour. Elissa knelt on the ground beside him, bowing her head. Her long hair was unbrushed and flecked with grape seeds, but she held herself with the regal bearing of a teyrn's daughter.

"Rise, Cousland." The king flicked his fingertips upward. "I see you have some interesting new recruitment policies. A Howe?"

"You mistake me, sire. Warden Nathaniel wasn't recruited, he was conscripted."

"I beg your pardon?"

Something in the way they spoke twigged some memory in Nathaniel's brain. He looked between the two, the tension in their postures. King Alistair was a man who needed an heir, above all else. And now that he thought about it, an orphan and a Grey Warden. This was her templar. Her templar had him kneeling on the ground like he was about to be executed.

"I conscripted him." Elissa said, hoping she could convey a sneer into her tone. "And he has duties that he can't attend to from the ground."

She licked her lips, trying to keep her face straight. This was Alistair, he didn't have a mean bone in his body, he wouldn't try to humiliate a good man. He was just being protective. Why was she making excuses for him? The king grudgingly nodded to Nathaniel, who stood. She wanted to kiss him, to remind herself who she was now, remind herself that her past was far behind her, but that wasn't appropriate. The knife wound in her chest was gaping. Instead she allowed herself to squeeze her lover's fingers gently. He was real.

Alistair's eyebrow rose. "Really?"

"Nathaniel, please go see to the rogues, and tell Sigrun we have company."

"Ser."

She watched Nathaniel dart away, relieved to be out of harm's way for the moment. Honestly Elissa hadn't really expected a reunion with Alistair to be conducted in front of her new paramour, and she certainly hadn't expected it today.

"Him?" Alistair asked.

"What brings you to the Keep, sire?"

An explosion detonated right behind her, shaking the ground and she turned a warning eye on all in the courtyard. A few apologies were shouted to them and she turned back to the king, wanting an answer to her question.

"Well my last visit came at a fairly inconvenient time, I thought I'd come and see how the Keep was coming, the reconstruction and so on. I can't say the demolition work was expected."

Elissa glanced back at the grenade training. She grinned, but it came out wrong on her lips, twisting like her stomach into something ugly. "The dwarves are working on reconstruction. My army has been given permission to make training a priority."

"I'm surprised you have time for everything, seeing how much you have on your plate."

His implications were clear and Elissa let her ugly grin blossom. So that was how he wanted to play it. He throws her away like yesterday's trash and then gets irate when she moves on. Well she could play that game, and right now he was making her more than happy to join in on a little petty sniping.

"I wouldn't think that would surprise you, sire," she purred. "You know personally just how talented I am."

Alistair's jaw tightened. Bullseye. "Yes, I do remember. Talents I'm sure come from extensive experience."

_Ouch_.

"Yes, I have to say I find it much better to have experience under my belt than to go into a situation... unprepared." She couldn't help preening just a little as he frowned. "But please, sire. You've travelled so far, let me get my seneschal to quarter you and your knights, and then I'll give you a tour of the facilities."

Alistair gave a curt nod, still bristling from her remark. She called Varel over from where he was berating Dworkin about the minutiae of court manners, such as not hurling grenades anywhere near the king or ordering others to do so.

"Ser Cousland?"

"Varel, have the king and his knights shown to the guest rooms, get the Order training at something less hazardous and, uh..." Her voice dropped a couple of decibels so that their guests wouldn't hear. "Have some recruits clean up the throne room, there are grapes everywhere."

"Grapes, ser?" Varel replied, giving her an increasingly familiar look of tolerant disapproval.

"Anders started it."

"Of course, ser."

Elissa breathed a sigh of relief as her guests were led away. She'd truly forgotten how handsome he was. The way his eyebrows sat, permanently sardonic, and the lush roundness of his bottom lip. And that sweet little hollow under his cheekbones that felt so perfect to run her fingers over. She would have growled from frustration if she wasn't in full sight of half her army. Every time she was around him it felt like she was completely drunk, totally out of control. The kind of woman who could get drawn into childish arguments. Had he really just insinuated that she was easy? That man. That infuriating, childish, irritating, gorgeous man.

Walking into the forest to find Nathaniel had to be done at an extremely precise pace if she was going to save any face. Knowing Alistair he'd want to stay for a month, just to annoy her, and if she couldn't pass through the first ten minutes without making a fool of herself then she stood no chance of lasting to the end of his visit, so she measured each step carefully until she was out of sight and could start stalking.

_It's in the past, Elissa_, she thought, hanging onto the words like a lifeline. _You've moved on. You have a castle and an army and a lover and a puppy. You even have your own seneschal. No perfectly chiselled jawline can compare to that._

He dumped her. There was no pretty way of putting it. He dumped her and he had never shown a moment's regret of that decision. Clinging onto her old happiness was pathetic, she had a world of good things going on for her as Warden Commander. Every Bann in the arling was terrified of her, that was something. Nathaniel hit all the right spots, which was more pleasing every day. Hell, she'd constructed a fortress that could take hold out against a full Darkspawn army for a week, even Denerim had fallen in under a day.

Nathaniel was walking away from Sigrun when she found him, and she waited until he was out of earshot of the recruits before calling out to him. He gave her a tired smile, laced with anxiety and she instantly knew that he had figured out why the king's visit was grating in that special way. That wasn't entirely surprising, he was a smart man. She leaned against one of the trees, toying with her hair.

"So. How much do you want to light yourself on fire?"

Nathaniel laughed, broad and genuine, the tension dispelled. "It's not often I get compared to an abomination and an ogre in the space of a single breath. The same breath he used to tell me you'd lost your mind for recruiting me. Thank you for the rescue."

"Any time."

Elissa wrapped her arms around his waist, cursing the pain in her chest and how it refused to dissipate even as he held her. Nathaniel deserved better than this, she knew it. They made no declarations of love, and no word ever escaped his lips that he wouldn't back up with his sword, but he was a man of action, not words, and his actions spoke of a deeper attachment than either of them had professed. The thought calmed her a little, let the blood flow through rapidly hardening veins, slowed her descent.

The pain dulled, but her stomach was still twisted into horrible knots. Love bore the most remarkable resemblance to indigestion, and she cursed it to hell. Love had never done a thing for her except impair her judgement and destroy perfectly good happiness found in duty and accomplishment. It was too soon for him to be visiting her like this, to expect her to just be over him.

"How are the rogues?" she asked.

"I assure you, your larder will be raided with maximum efficiency from now on."

"That's good to know." She groaned into his chest, "I can't stay here long, I promised his majesty a tour of the facilities that I'm sure he won't let me out of. Don't suppose you'd like to join us?"

"And deprive you of alone time with your long lost love? I wouldn't dream of it."

"Everyone's a comedian. I guess I'll see you tonight, then. Wish me luck, I'm going to need it when I go on trial for assaulting the High King."

"Wait." He pulled her against his chest as she tried to disentangle herself. "Are you going to be alright? I know you're not the type to fall apart over this, but it's only been a few months since you left Denerim, this must be a fairly fresh wound."

Ah, damn lovers and their caring. She didn't really want to think about whether or not she'd be alright. She planned to ignore any jibes he made, any sexy raised eyebrows he shot her way, and act like the completely professional Warden Commander that she was until he went away. Then she could consider being alright again. Elissa let out a dramatic sigh.

"No, this is surely going to devastate me both emotionally and physically. So I expect you in my chambers tonight to kiss it better."

She laughed and leaned up to kiss him, a gesture he returned easily. Nathaniel had taken a blow to the face as a child, accidentally catching the edge of an aegis. Elissa, emboldened by the privacy of the forest and a need to be caught up with her current lover instead of her past, ran her tongue over the dent in his lip that remained, the distinctive dip. Dented, not rounded. He opened his mouth, catching the flat of her tongue with his and letting their chaste kiss evolve into something hot and open. A fire ignited low in her belly.

Hands wove through her hair and coursed down her back, tugging her tasset aside to get a grip on the legs he was so obsessed with. Elissa groaned into his mouth, letting him slip her hauberk further down her shoulders, exposing her shoulder to his hands and mouth. Her deft fingers worked at his back, rubbing out knots of tension he had developed crouching in shadows. She hooked one leg behind his knee, making their position all the more scandalous.

"Nathaniel," she breathed. "I have to go. The king is waiting."

"Let him wait," the rogue said.

She was so tempted. The idea of getting ravished up against a tree in broad daylight was a little thrilling, if not very becoming, and it would definitely be a more pleasant way to spend the afternoon than what she had in mind.

"No!" She pulled out of his grasp with a groan of frustration. "I have to go. Tonight. Promise me."

"You couldn't keep me away," he assured her as she retreated back toward the Keep.

Elissa let the dopey grin spread across her face. Now there promise that would get her through the afternoon. A promise he would keep. She adjusted her hauberk as she approached the Keep, trying to get it to sit right on her shoulders, still grinning, but it wouldn't cooperate and she was still fussing with it, trying to keep her shoulder from being completely exposed, when she walked back through the gate.

Her face was still red, she was sure of it, when she saw the king talking to Varel near the prison. Blood rushed to her cheeks with renewed ferocity when he looked over at her. She had planned to have some time to freshen up, to let Mistress Woolsey straighten her out before meeting with Alistair, and she conjured a mental image of herself, hair wild, face flushed, shoulder exposed and tasset tucked into her belt. The way Alistair's face darkened upon seeing her told her that she was spot on. Elissa ran a hand through her hair, trying to tame it, and tugged at the ends of her tasset, trying to get herself into some kind of state, even though it was appallingly obvious what she had just been doing. She should have let him take her against that tree, she hadn't managed to save face anyway and now she was frustrated.

"Ser Cousland," Varel greeted her. "I was just showing his majesty the construction we have been working on."

"I can't say attempting to blow up the buildings as they're constructed is a very productive method, Commander."

"We have to make our own fun around here." Elissa shrugged.

"So I see."

The side of the prison wall looked like it had taken a fairly heavy explosion recently, and she glanced at the bomb master, who gave her an innocent shrug. They really needed somewhere else for grenade training. That would have to wait.

Alistair was just being irritable now. Whenever he disagreed with her decisions they had to go through this, however unlike those previous times she was obliged to listen to him now, and not inclined in the least to do so. This was likely to cause problems. She used to actually enjoy his input, she had valued his opinion above all others in most cases, no matter how agitated he became when giving it to her.

"Come, sire, you wanted to see the real training fields, let me show you."

Elissa shot Varel a pleading look, but he refused to follow her. She led Alistair into the keep and down toward the training halls.

"How did you... get that?"

Elissa raised a hand to the scar on her face. "Broodmother. Nasty one. She caught me in the face as she died, that'll teach me to let my guard down, hey?"

"Where was your mage?" He was frowning, that big brother look that she'd become so used to, and she suddenly felt keenly exposed.

"Well, this was kind of before we were recruiting properly. I didn't have a spirit healer or anything, Anders did the best he could, but we'd been fighting for hours and he was tired. He's not really a healer anyway, he'd only learned healing arts just after your last visit here and he was..." She realised she was babbling. "Are you saying I'm horribly mutilated?"

"No! No, I didn't mean it like that, I just..." He sighed. "I worry about you."

The confession brought a rush equal parts affection and anger. "You don't need to."

"I know that. Just looking around, it's only been, what? Two months since this place was completely overrun by Darkspawn? And now you have dwarves engineering for you, a new order of knights already renowned across the country, the Grey Warden order all but rebuilt. A crisis that would destroy anyone else you just fight through and come out the other side stronger. Like it's nothing."

"I had my face torn in half. It was really something, believe me."

"We all have battle scars, but I don't worry about that, I have yet to meet a man who could best you in battle. It's the other things that scare me."

"Other things." She had a feeling she knew where this was going.

"I come here and the Keep and the arling are in order, but I find you... you... shacking up with Rendon Howe's son?"

"He has a name, you know. It's Nathaniel. And I don't see how any of this is your business."

"You're the one greeting me half-dressed, if you were anyone else – "

"If I was anyone else you would have thought it was hilarious. You probably don't even care that he's a Warden and you certainly don't care that he's a Howe. This protective act doesn't suit you, sire. Amaranthine is all in order, things are running smoothly and I'm more than happy to show you that, but my private life is not your affair."

"I know what the Howes did to you, Elissa, it's no joke to me."

"And it is to me? Nathaniel is not his father. End of story." She was dying to tack onto the end of that sentence the many things that he _was_, like constant, honest, devoted and dynamite in the bedroom, but she held her tongue. Admitting what was going on here would be a big mistake. She had to keep this as a conversation between sovereign and vassal, or at the very least, between former comrades.

"Then do you want to tell me why your back is so badly bruised?"

Elissa's hand flew to her shoulder. She hadn't realised she'd taken any hits in the past few days, and there was no tenderness in the area. Then the implications of what he had just said hit her, and her vision turned white with outrage.

"How dare you insinuate such a thing!" Okay, this was not keeping her cool. "Any hits I take, I take on the battlefield. In the service of the crown. Your crown! I don't have time or patience for this petty jealousy!"

Dammit, dammit, dammit. Dammit. That was a pretty good admission of what was going on, and her face burned with humiliation. She had actually just suggested that her former lover, the king no less, was jealous of a nameless rogue because she was sleeping with him. Oh, she was never going to live this down. She prayed for the narrow hallway swallow her up just to avoid the derision she was going to suffer. Alistair was silent as she examined her feet, too timid to look him in the face. She could see his hands clench. Things didn't used to be this hard with him. Whenever he was angry, even so angry he could barely form words, she could take his hand and ask him to trust her and he would. That wasn't an option anymore, she just had to take his anger as it came.

"It's not petty."

Elissa whipped her head up, staring at him. He looked completely ashamed of himself.

"What?"

"I'm being unfair on you, and I'm sorry. But it's not petty. You know I could never keep my head on my shoulders when I'm around you."

Elissa said nothing for a moment, trying to kill the bubble of hope that was forming in her chest. This didn't change anything, he was just being territorial, that didn't mean he wanted her for himself.

"Just me?"

His boyish grin made butterflies explode in her belly.

"Very funny. You know I'm your lord and sovereign, right? I could have you flogged for that."

Elissa felt blood rush to her face and lightning crackle down her spine at the image he evoked. The king seemed to realise at the same time what he had just said and his ears burned pink. She managed to untie her tongue long enough to completely ignore that remark.

"So, I brought your here to see the training. Shall we?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**The Arlessa and The Afanc**

–

_Pain. All she can feel is pain. Skin, muscle and sinew stretched beyond natural limits. It's everywhere. Her belly is bulging, she can't move her legs, her fingers grope desperately at thin air, but there's no relief to be had. She wants to scream, but she can't, wants to run, but is paralysed. Thick fingers run over her body, touching, probing, everywhere, but she can't make out faces, her attackers are just shadowy figures against a red sky. If she could just get her eyes to focus, she might be able to figure out what's going on, find a way to escape._

_But she can't. No amount of willpower will make her see straight or force her body to respond to her. She's aware of the pain, but not experiencing it. This isn't her, not really. It's someone else she's watching, hidden away in a corner of the victim's mind. If it were really her she wouldn't feel so calm, wouldn't be able to hide away in the river of white that runs through the black and red, surely. It must be someone else forced to their hands and knees, enduring the impossible. If it was her then her mind would have snapped, she wouldn't be able to watch this._

_The milling shadows come to her, reverence in their torture, fear in their boldness. These are her children, these are her lovers, they hurt her only so she can grow. Another joint snaps, torn apart by her expanding flesh. Another cry comes from the victim's throat. This can't be her. The horde advances, passing her from hand to hand, she's no longer struggling. _

_The pain is fading, so constant that she can push it aside as if it were background noise._

_She can make out smells, the acrid stench of blood, her own, others', it covers her, drips down between her breasts and runs along her thighs, she can taste it in her mouth. And sounds, now, too. Words she knows but can't understand, grunting, anxiety, excitement. They aren't here to rescue her, but she's not sure that rescue would be salvation. A purpose is growing inside her. Her children. The very reason for this existence, she can't deny it. She couldn't let someone take her away from them, it would be wrong to leave them without a mother, she can endure this pain for them._

_Her children are helping her become what she should be. They'll take care of her._

Elissa's eyes shot open. She wanted to scream and kick but she found herself paralysed by the fear. A great gasp for air was all she could achieve before the real world came into focus and her body started to respond again. Soft bed beneath her, dark night around her, the warmth of another body holding her close.

Oh, Marker, she was still in her bedroom.

She sat up, pulling away from Nathaniel. She needed to feel her legs beneath her. What a nightmare, she'd never seen its like. Usually the nightmares were the horde communicating between each other, flashes of where they massed and what they did, she'd never, ever dreamed anything so ghastly before. The images lingered in the dark, filling her with dread.

A hand on her back jolted her into reality. Nathaniel's fingers slid down her spine, lending her some calm.

"Nightmare?" he mumbled groggily.

"Yeah."

"Bad one?"

"Yeah. I'm fine, go back to sleep."

She let him take her hand, appreciating the gentle squeeze. It hadn't been real. Just a regular old, non-Warden nightmare. The kind brought on by fear and doubt, such as the fear and doubt she felt while felling an alpha broodmother, not so long past now. She ran her fingers down the scar on her face. The sort of permanent reminder she didn't really need.

With a sigh Elissa slipped out of bed, happy to feel her feet hit the stone. She left Nathaniel dozing and headed for her dressing room. Lighting a candle beside the mirror, she turned her back, examining the tender flesh. Alistair had been right, there were a row of irregular bruises across her shoulder blade and down her spine, they were yellowing as if days old.

Elissa pursed her lips, the explanation not quite formed in her mind, but a sinking feeling in her gut.

She sunk down to the ground, holding her head in her hands. She could still feel the pain. She could just forget this. She could go back to bed and fall asleep, get up the next day and train, sleep and train until her time came. Another row of bruises were forming along her left forearm.

_Bruises_. She scoffed. _Let's go with that, then._

Fingers ran down the scar on her face, almost without her realising. She could still see the broodmother, the hideous purple venom, the foul blood that dripped from every wound, from her eyes and mouth. She could still hear Anders trying to make sense of what had invaded her bloodstream. She could go back to sleep, and very soon this would all be someone else's problem. She could fall on her sword, avoid it all.

_Shut up, Elissa_, she thought, _you made a deal with the devil to live, and you're going to collect your due._

Elissa stood up and began to dress.

–

The throne room was oddly silent when the morning came. Alistair had quickly fallen into the convivial court of Amaranthine, populated by Wardens instead of nobles. He found it a refreshing change from Denerim. So he was surprised to see the room all but empty in the grey dawn, except for Nathaniel Howe and Seneschal Varel holding a whispered conversation in the far corner. The two men were animated with anger, hands gesturing furiously.

He couldn't tell what they were arguing about but whatever it was, if it had upset Howe, Alistair was happy with it. It wasn't common to see any interaction between a seneschal and a commander's... second. Oh, Maker, Howe was really her second. This was a disgrace. It was bad enough knowing he was in her bed, but in her court, it just seemed so trusting, so dependent. This man was the one she had moved on with, there was no question of that, and it hurt. Maybe knowing she had moved on would allow him to do so, but that didn't make it any more pleasant.

"Where is Commander Elissa?" Alistair asked.

Both men started, they had been unaware of his approach. They shifted uncomfortably, exchanging glances, their argument forgotten.

"The Warden Commander has been called away," said Varel.

"Called away?" Alistair asked.

"Yes. On Warden business." Nathaniel nodded resolutely.

"Uh huh. So since I'm a Warden as well, you won't mind telling me what business that is." Alistair crossed his arms. He wasn't exactly known for being a brilliant politician, but he knew when he was being lied to.

"It's... Warden Commander business," Varel said.

"Classified," Nathaniel agreed.

"Classified? Tell me where she is."

The two exchanged looks again, trying to figure out what to tell him. Neither seemed willing to speak. Finally Varel looked squared his shoulders and cleared his throat.

"I wish we could tell you, your majesty."

"You do know that lying to me is considered treason, don't you?"

"He's not lying," Nathaniel said. "We do wish we could tell you, but we don't know. Warden Commander Elissa has disappeared."

"Disappeared?" Alistair asked, incredulous. "How do you _lose_ a Warden Commander? And why are we standing around here instead of looking for her? She could have been kidnapped, she could have been killed!"

"She wasn't kidnapped, sire, there were no intruders in her chambers last night, nor any kind of scuffle."

"And you would know."

Nathaniel looked him in the eye. "As it happens, I would."

A searing mental image hit Alistair. Nathaniel in her bed, not just a quick fuck to relieve stress, curled up with her, sleeping beside her, holding her through the night. Fingers curling around her belly, her hair splayed across the pillow. The king gritted his teeth.

"And you didn't notice her leave?"

"I don't know how they do things in Denerim, but around here we don't feel the need to have a night watch in our bedrooms," the rogue snapped before remembering who he was talking to. "Sire. She woke in the early hours from a nightmare, when I awoke she was gone."

"And she left nothing? No indication of where she went?"

"Nothing, sire," Varel stepped in, sensing the growing tension between the two men. "But she didn't take her armour or swords, so we assume that wherever she was going did not amount to any danger in her mind. Warden Nathaniel is to act in her place in her absence, as per her will. I apologise for the inconvenience –"

"Inconvenience?" Alistair scoffed. He pointed to Nathaniel. "You. You should know as well as I that she wouldn't leave without word unless it was urgent. Take me to her rooms."

Nathaniel looked like he might object, then bowed his head and led the way upstairs. This didn't make any sense. Elissa was not someone to abandon people who needed her, least of all the recruits who made up the major population of the Keep. He'd never seen her run from any monster, and the people here should know that, they should have started searching the instant they found her missing. The only thing that woman never had a damn lick of sense about was her own wellbeing.

Her rooms were the highest in the Keep, overlooking the courtyard. More than one window was missing the pane, presumably the work of the boisterous dwarves, but other than that it was how he remembered her keeping. Little frippery, a few exorbitant luxuries like the silk sheets on her bed and the heavily embroidered robe draped over the bedpost. She had a lot of books, something she'd never been able to carry with her on the road. He filed the information away.

"Her dressing room," he commanded.

Nathaniel obediently took him to the next room. It was almost bare. A lone vanity unit was the only furniture beside the dummies that held her armour, all of which was still in place, as promised. Her sword racks were almost full. He noted that Duncan's sword was given a place of honour above her mirror, but the matching dagger was missing. He did a quick mental inventory of the weapons she was most proud of. He remembered a dwarven merchant in Orzammar showing her a glowing dagger, wickedly curved. _Rose's Thorn, finest dagger made by man_, the little merchant had promised. It couldn't be seen.

"She took two daggers, she was travelling light. What else is missing?"

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. "Sire?"

Alistair restrained himself from grabbing the rogue and forcing the information out of him by any means necessary. He took a deep breath. This wasn't some dingy inn in the middle of nowhere, this was Vigil's Keep, he could use polite requests to get what he wanted, and if it came to it, throw the bastard in the stocks.

"She has barely any clothing for a noblewoman. If you spend as much time in here as you claim, you should be able to tell me what she took with her."

The rogue's eye twitched, but he nodded. He looked around the room, taking stock, thumbing through her the leather pants and vests, cotton undershirts. Most irritating, her underwear. He counted under his breath, tapping his fingers on his legs as he did.

"She's wearing a pair of light leather pants, two cotton shirts, a studded leather brigandine and her dragonscale haubergeon."

"Shoes, tell me about her shoes." She was travelling light. Very light. Her opinions on leather armour were extremely low, she must have been desperate to keep her weight down if she was wearing it.

"Knee high riding boots, dragonscale."

"Did she take her horse?"

"No."

Alistair tried to piece it together in his mind. She would have planned this. She wouldn't go anywhere without the protection of her plate and swords unless it was absolutely necessary. Riding boots with no riding was strange, she couldn't have been going more than a day or two's walk away, she wasn't the kind to risk her feet unnecessarily.

"Snow," Nathaniel said suddenly. "Her fur cloak is missing. She's wearing riding boots to keep her legs dry, and left her plate so she wouldn't sink. She's going somewhere cold."

That was it, Alistair had to grudgingly admit.

"Anything else? Does she keep things in her vanity?"

Nathaniel began rifling through the drawers, pulling out an assortment of potions, hair pins, perfumes, throwing knives, a bizarre mix of the feminine belongings of a lady and the dangerous trinkets of a warrior. He talked as he worked.

"She hasn't taken any potions, unless she stopped for some on the way. Her avenveil, that's gone, and it's being held in place by... three poisoned hairpins, silverite spikes, really. So she's hiding her face, probably doesn't want to be recognised. Her all purpose belt is gone, her elemental protection gloves. Her light emitting pendant. Her... compass?"

"Compass?" Alistair asked. Elissa had the best sense of direction of anyone he knew, she could start from anywhere, pick a vague direction and end up at her destination, she didn't need a compass.

"She usually has a compass hanging from her mirror. It's gone."

Alistair frowned. He had hoped for some measure of success with this exercise, but clearly this whelp knew her inside out. Every item of clothing, ever weapon and shoe and accessory? That was the knowledge of someone who was paying extremely close attention for a long period of time. A year ago it was these details that he had snatched up, one at a time, dying to get a glimpse of her favourite book or hear her humming a tune he didn't know. Now she had all the time in the world to let a new lover into her life.

"And Dog the Second, she's gone too. She took a puppy?"

"Hah!" Alistair couldn't help himself, he laughed. "Dog the Second. That's so like her."

"I never really understood it."

Things clicked together in Alistair's mind. The light pendant, the compass, the dog whose sense of smell could guide her. She was navigating tunnels and heading for the snow. Warden's Keep, where they had cleaned out the spirit of Sophia Dryden and sealed the veil. He had no possible reason for why she would steal away in the middle of the night to visit there, but that was where she was headed.

"Well, I know where I'm going, thank you for your help, Howe."

"Wait, where _you're_ going? You think I'm not coming with you."

"No, I know you're not coming with me. I'll order you not to if I need to."

Nathaniel crossed his arms. "Nice try. I'm acting Warden Commander, and while you're in this compound, I'm your direct superior, Warden."

Damn. He was right. If Elissa was here she'd win this argument in a heartbeat, she always had a way with words. Alistair wasn't stuck on his brother's notions of romance and glory, but he still knew that if Elissa was in trouble her lover showing up to rescue her was definitely going to solidify the relationship.

The king nearly hit himself for thinking something so stupid. Elissa could be in trouble. Serious trouble. He needed all the help her could get. And even if she wasn't, she deserved a man who would run across Ferelden for her, and a solid relationship that she could rely on. No matter how sick it made him to think it was with another man.

"Fine. But remember who's in charge once we're not in this compound."

–

Elissa shivered. Warden's Keep was even colder than she remembered, and last time she hadn't been stark naked on Avernus' exam table. After six months he still hadn't managed to get that rotting flesh stench out of the place, but then he probably hadn't tried. The whole place reeked of putrid flesh and acrid chemicals, she didn't know how the old maleficar could stand it. Maybe after living here for hundreds of years he didn't notice it anymore.

Bony fingers ran down the back of her thigh, pausing to prod a certain spot. She groaned in frustration. Another bruise. In the day and a half it had taken her to get to the tower another half dozen brown spots had cropped up on her body.

"Stop moaning. I need to concentrate."

"If any other man had spent this long concentrating on my naked body his belly would have sprouted a dagger by now."

"Yes, yes, you're very scary."

"Can you actually do anything, or are we rewriting an anatomy textbook, here?"

"You have nothing to be so cavalier about, young lady. The taint spreads as we speak. You must have been sitting on this infection for weeks, you should have sought me out as soon as it happened, then I might have been able to stop it. Get dressed."

Elissa started to pull on her leggings, letting the meaning of his words sink in. He couldn't stop this, she was going to have to deal with it by the sword. The whole Keep depended on her, but she'd left instructions, Nathaniel should be able to keep it up as well as she could. The Silver Order were taking care of most of the recruits, it would be alright.

"There's nothing you can do?"

Avernus eyed her, as if he was assessing whether or not she was prepared for the news he had to offer. It was an uncomfortable look to receive when she was half naked.

"I may be able to help you. At this rate your transformation will be completed within a few days, a week at most. I have a treatment, it was designed to subdue the taint for one lunar cycle. It was a fertility treatment for Warden Commander Sophia, but the principle is the same. The treatment must clear out of your system completely before it can be taken again, so this is not a permanent solution, as soon as the effects wear off the taint will come back and take you almost immediately. You will have one month."

"To do what? My affairs are already in order, I may as well fall on my blade now."

"How macabre of you. I do not suggest that you simply extend your life by a month, but I may have a more permanent solution. If it doesn't work, then do what you will."

A faint glimmer of hope appeared in Elissa's chest, but it was heavily burdened with suspicion. "You've never tested this permanent solution, have you?"

"No." Avernus gave a shrug which instilled absolutely zero confidence in her. "The formula was passed on to me by my predecessor, it requires an ingredient not just anyone can get, and I'm not sure of its effects."

"Great. That sounds just like the sort of thing I want to drink. What do you mean you don't know what it does?"

The old mage pulled out an ancient tome, _Formulae Physika_, the pages dog eared and stained, and began flicking through it. He came across the right page and handed it to her. "For the retroactive prevention of misfortune most severe. Declared useful against poisons and mortal wounds. It is entirely untested."

"Good, good. Wouldn't want a solid solution or anything. Retroactive prevention? That doesn't even make any sense. If you have to do something retroactively, you may be beyond the point of prevention." Elissa scanned the list of ingredients.

"Well, since you're so swamped with options, maybe you'd like to present a better idea."

"Point taken, but if anything goes wrong it's your fault. What is an afanc and why do I need its blood?"

"An afanc is probably the reason this potion is untested." Avernus turned to his bookshelf and started looking for another book. "It is a monster of immense power and bloodlust. Easy enough to kill, from what I understand, but almost impossible to find. Ah."

He handed her another tome, with an overly detailed drawing of what looked like a cross between a dwarf, a golem and a salmon. She read aloud. "_The afanc is trapped in the interminable maze, and he who seeks him shall be so trapped as well. Never shall this evil again walk the land, the Maker shall not allow it._ What are you trying to send me after, here? Apparently the Maker isn't with me on this."

"From the rumours I've heard, the Maker hasn't been with you for some time now. How did you survive slaying the archdemon, exactly?"

"_If correctly prepared, the blood of the afanc shall transform the drinker into the same beast!_ Avernus, be honest with me, is this going to turn me into an afanc?"

"I have no idea. That would certainly solve your current problem."

"Will you just tell me why and how this thing is trapped, please?" Elissa huffed. She settled her haubergeon around her shoulders and tied her cloak around her neck, leaving the avenveil for the moment.

"It is trapped by two guardians. Both will need to be killed before it is set free, their life forces power the barrier over Lake Calenhad that prevent the afanc from surfacing. You cannot kill the beast under the water, it must be brought above or the water will contaminate the blood and it will be useless. Once the barrier is down you must dive beneath the water, and there is where the second protection lies. The water will attempt to trap you, confusing up from down. If you do not keep your wits about you, you will drown trying to find the surface, even if you are only a foot away from it. The afanc lies at the bottom of the lake."

"Drowning, you say." Elissa swallowed thickly. "Always had a bit of a thing about drowning. Asphyxiating. Not being able to breathe in general, I like breathing."

"Steel yourself, girl, or its the deep roads for you."

"Right, right." She nodded, fighting her rising panic. Water or deep roads. Or six feet under. "Water, can do. Kill the guardians, dive down, bring the afanc up, kill it. Got you. You somehow forgot to mention why it's trapped in the first place."

"It is a bringer of pestilence and disease. Physically not strong, but able to wreak havoc on a large scale while remaining hidden. That is why you must kill it before it escapes. Do you understand?"

"Okay, I can do that. You'll draw up the draughts?"

"It will take me at least two hours to concoct the potion to which the blood must be added. I already have the fertility treatment on hand." He produced a tiny blue phial from one of the cupboards and handed it to her. Elissa held up the potion as if toasting then downed it in one gulp. Alvernus continued, "Side effects can include loss of eyesight, loss of coordination, jaundice, paranoia, increased heartrate, vertigo, incontinence, coma and death."

Elissa choked. "You son of a whore."

"Side effects _will_ include increased metabolism, fatigue, swollen breasts, increased core temperature, increased production and decreased viscosity of cervical mucus, mood swings, increased appetite and increased appetite unseemly."

"I could kill you. Easily. Appetite unseemly?"

"I'm not talking about food."

"You son of a whore," she repeated. "Swollen breasts? _Cervical mucus_?"

"It is a fertility treatment, what did you expect? Sophia was quite specific about what she wanted, she was an excellent physician."

"Hah!" Elissa laughed, unable to do anything else. "So you've turned me into a busty, randy, weepy, gooey sex kitten. At least I'm travelling alone. Don't you think the fatigue might hinder my progress a little?"

"Perhaps if I'd designed it for this purpose we could have avoided that. Most taint poisoning cases I've seen are in older Wardens, they never asked for a cure, they just go to Orzammar." The old mage looked to be getting tired of her, so she had to cut her losses here. She'd asked for an option, he'd given her one. She couldn't say fairer than that. This wasn't an elegant solution, but it was better than where she'd been two days ago.

"Thank you, Avernus. This means a lot to me, I'm glad I let you live."

He bowed his head. "Anything for the Warden Commander."

"I do have one more request of you, as your benefactor. So long as I live, no one else may know about this fertility treatment without my personal permission. And for as long as he lives, Warden Alistair is not to know it exists."

"Your former paramour, if I'm not mistaken. I will do as you ask, but I cannot say I'm not curious."

"Stay curious."

"Very well. I'll begin the concoction, you may watch, if you please, or go visit that fool Levi."

She nodded and wrapped her cloak around herself, preparing to brave the cold again, Dog the Second on her heels. The glimmer of hope in her chest sparked. She could survive this and go back to her life. The odds were against her, but when had she ever cared about odds?


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Promises, Promises**

–

"It's a soft left, I'm telling you."

"You understand my doubt, your majesty, considering the last three times we ended up at this exact point you were telling me the same thing."

"Just because we took wrong turns after this point the last three times doesn't mean it's not a soft left here."

"I see."

Nathaniel sighed. After two days of travel and four hours in the tunnels with the king, he would describe him charitably as enthusiastic, uncharitably as an idiot, and extremely uncharitably as still the man who callously broke Elissa's heart and showed no remorse. Any of that was enough reason to simply knock him unconscious and try to find his way by himself, and if he heard soft left one more time he didn't care if Alistair was the king; that's where they were heading.

Of course Elissa had taken the only map in existence and the only tracking dog in the Keep. He supposed that whatever she wanted she eventually got, and she didn't want to be followed. The lack of directions or proper tools was a disadvantage, but Nathaniel was beginning to wonder if Alistair was some kind of booby trap she'd left to keep him wandering around in circles in the event he tried to track her.

"If we take a left here, then try an immediate right, that should keep us going in a sort of west direction."

"It's been six hours since we last saw sunlight, you don't know which we west is. We're more likely to find Andraste's lost tomb than the exit if we keep going left."

"Andraste's tomb isn't lost, it's just north of Haven."

"Well that certainly makes me feel more optimistic about our situation."

"Doesn't it, though?"

The most irritating thing about the young king was exactly how much he was like Elissa. They made the same jokes, laughed at the same things, crossed their arms when angry, smiled weakly when they didn't want to talk. He'd known they'd spent a lot of time together, he'd known Elissa loved Alistair, maybe still did, but it was like walking with her more irritating other half. If he didn't need the help he would have been more than happy to give the king the slip days ago.

"I have an idea, let's split up and when I've found her I'll see if she wants to come back and rescue you," Nathaniel growled.

"Which one of us has been through these tunnels before?"

"At this point we've both been through them six times over."

"I'm telling you, it's a soft –"

Alistair's voice cut off as his eyes fixed where he was pointing. A pinpoint of light appeared down the passageway. Nathaniel watched, trying to make out the sourse of the light. It was just a single, swaying light in the dark, like a star in the night sky. Both men watched in silence, transfixed, until the light was nearly upon them. Then the air was split by a yap and tiny footsteps raced toward them.

Nathaniel felt tiny paws hit his knees and Dog the Second gave him a wide puppy smile. He scooped the pup into his arms and looked back at the light, Elissa's pendant, which had stopped moving. She stood stock still, just out of sight. Neither of them spoke, letting her take them in before reacting.

"What in Andraste's name are you two doing here?" Her voice was almost a screech as she moved into their light.

"Us?" Alistair said. "You're the one who disappeared in the middle of the night, what were we supposed to do?"

Nathaniel took in her appearance, staying silent. She looked good. Unusually good. Her skin was white and her cheeks pink from the cold, her lips were red and swollen, and... had her breasts grown? She practically oozed sex appeal, and he was surprised Alistair hadn't noticed.

"It's my damn Keep, I can disappear from it whenever I like."

"You have responsibilities there."

"So you have Eamon's full knowledge and approval to be here on your soap box?"

"Maybe not, but at least I'm not scaring the hell out of people who care about me."

Nathaniel expected her to look a little ashamed at that, she hated scaring people and had to do it on a regular basis, but instead she tightened her jaw in defiance, meeting his eyes without hesitation. Dog the Second whimpered.

"You've seen me, I'm fine, your worries may now be assuaged. Now go back. Both of you."

Nathaniel spoke up. "You can't really expect us to leave you here."

"I do. As Wardens I order you both back to the Keep immediately. This is my business, and I intend to resolve it. What were you thinking? You must have known I left willingly, why would you follow me? I don't leave in the middle of the night as a cry for attention, I did it because I have something that needs attending to, and I'm doing it now, and I'm doing it alone."

Nathaniel looked at Alistair. The king nodded.

"We're coming with you."

"I just gave you a direct order, Warden." Elissa stepped toward him threateningly. He took a respectful step back, letting Dog the Second back onto the ground.

"Well I hope you're planning to back it up, because you can either kill us for refusing to follow orders, or you can let us come along."

Something sparked in Elissa's eyes, her lips pressed in a thin line. She was either going to kill them or give herself an aneurysm. Nathaniel thanked the Maker that he knew her so well. She'd blow and bluster until they felt like they'd been hit by a hurricane, but she'd never execute a man for loyalty to his commander.

"Fine." The word was nearly a hiss. She looked between them. "You can come, but there are conditions."

"Tell us," Alistair said.

"First, this is a personal mission, if you want to come along and join in the fighting, you may. That doesn't mean it's become your business. I will tell you as much or as little as I see fit and you may not question me on it."

"Agreed."

"Second, any order I give must be obeyed explicitly and without question. No matter what it is. If I tell you to do a handstand while singing _Ballad of the Golden King_, you don't ask why, you don't object, you do it."

"Agreed."

"And thirdly," she paused, looking to them both to make sure she had their full attention. "Thirdly, on this mission I am expendable. I want you both to be fully aware that there is a very good chance I won't walk away. That doesn't have to be you, and it won't be. If I die Ferelden still needs a king and the Wardens still need a commander. If we are ever in a situation where I may die, you save yourselves. If you have a choice between saving Dog and me, you save Dog. Do you both understand?"

She couldn't be serious. Nathaniel looked at Alistair, receiving a mirrored expression of incredulous insult. They wouldn't agree that that. They couldn't. No matter what their stations, they couldn't justify letting her die. Even if she was a nobody she couldn't ask this of them.

"You're joking." Alistair recovered from the shock first. "You're trying to scare us off so you can do whatever you have to on your own. Sure, I'll agree."

"No." Elissa stepped forward, not angry this time, beseeching. "If anything goes wrong, anything at all, during this mission, I will die. And I'm not bringing you both along as sacrificial lambs to save my own life. I take the risks. If you agree to this, you must be completely serious."

"Die?" Nathaniel said. "I don't understand. Why would you die? Are you in trouble, Liss? Is someone threatening you? Are you sick?"

"No questions. You have my conditions, take them or leave them. If you can't accept that, I'll take Dog and go."

"I agree," Nathaniel blurted.

"What? How can you agree to that?" Alistair asked, outraged. "You're just going to let her die?"

"I believe Elissa when she says she'll die if we don't do this, whatever it is. She can easily lose us in these tunnels, and we might be able to stop her from getting into a situation where her life is at stake if we agree and go along. You do what you will."

The king gritted his teeth. "Fine. I agree."

"Good. We're slaying two guardians, one on each end of Lake Calenhad, and then we head to the circle tower to kill an afanc."

Without another word, Elissa turn and started down the path they had just come from, flicking her compass open. Dog the Second happily trotted after her, oblivious to the pact that had just been made. Nathaniel looked over at a furious Alistair, and then followed the swaying star back down the darkened path.

–

_The Keep is silent, the ghosts of the Wardens who died there milling but never speaking. Avernus lab is bare except for the stone cold exam table. It's covered in blood, a hundred victims long dead. She can feel it against her back, soaking her hair, matting into it. The wood of the ceiling is rotting, long since abandoned, it drops soggy splinters on her skin, in her eyes and mouth. Her arms are burning, the veins in the crooks of her elbows sliced open. Her blood joins that of the others who lay on this table before her._

_The ghosts are beginning to notice her. They're not blue spirits anymore, they're black. Their fingers feel solid against her skin, she can feel their breath against her exposed neck and breasts. Her prone body is helpless, unresponsive to her pleas. She tries to beg, or yell for help, but only whimpers escape her throat. They're only made happier by the way her shoulders and hips writhe weakly._

_The ghosts surround her, a lustful, predatory look in their eyes._

Elissa screamed. Every last inch of air was squeezed from her lungs, her back arched up into the howl that tore itself free of her body. Terror was all she could feel, it blacked out her vision and made her flail wildly, trying to protect herself. She screamed again and again, knowing it wouldn't help, but she couldn't stop herself, she needed to protest what was happening to her.

"Elissa!" Someone called her name.

"Elissa!" Another voice, one that cut through the panic, turning the scream into a whimper, making her squeeze her eyes shut instead of seeing blindly.

Hands closed over her shoulders, pulling her upright, out of her fetal position. Arms wrapped around her and she was rocked back and forth, like a child, warm breath against her neck that made her sob again. Oh, Maker, it had been so real.

"Did you see it?"

"The tower? Yes. That can't have been her dream, can it?"

"I can't think of much else that would see her scream like that."

"That's not even possible." Alistair. Alistair was speaking. She was in Nathaniel's arms and that voice was Alistair. Her breathing slowed a little. The images began to fade. She realised she was trembling.

"It seems to be fairly possible right now." That was Nathaniel's voice. Deeper, drier.

"What happened?" she asked, her throat cracked and raw. Nathaniel's hands tightened around her.

"You had a nightmare, Liss. A bad one."

"Where am I?"

"We're nearly at the north point of Lake Calenhad, with Alistair, do you remember?"

"Yes." It came back to her slowly. She left the keep hours ago. "I remember."

Maker she was going to be sick. She curled into Nathaniel's arms, letting him soothe away the horror of her dream. He was so warm, she almost fell asleep on the spot, until he moved one arm to wrap around her waist, his fingertips grazing her ribs. A line of fire ran straight to her groin, followed by a wave of revulsion into her belly. She jumped out of Nathaniel's arms, pushing past Alistair and out of her tent.

This treatment was going to be the death of her. How could she even have those feelings so soon after...? She ran to the tree line and hunched over, retching onto the ground. Emptying her stomach somehow didn't stop the nausea. Her mind still filled with images of the advancing ghosts, all she wanted to do was pick one of the men and jump on him. Both at once, she didn't care. It was a compulsion as strong as breathing. Appetites unseemly indeed.

_At least I'm travelling alone._

The words rang in her ears and she couldn't help a dry chuckle that brought on another round of vomiting. When she spat the last of it onto the ground she looked up. Nathaniel and Alistair were both watching her with worried eyes. She couldn't help the flush that burnt her face. They looked so good in the moonlight. She walked back to them, keeping her stride steady through force of will alone. She took a sip from the canteen and spat the water back onto the ground, before taking another and swallowing, making her mouth feel a bit better.

"We should go back to sleep. No point in getting exhausted over this."

She didn't wait for an answer before sliding into her tent. With a sigh she loosened her pants and let one hand slip into her underwear. She hated herself for it.

–

"So what's an afanc?"

Alistair broke the sombre silence that had fallen over the trio. They were trekking up the mountains at the northern point of the lake, once again wading through snow. Dog the Second was nestled in the king's arms, so small she might get lost in the white drifts. They had spent the last twenty four hours in the most awkward situation possible. It had taken all of twenty seconds around a campfire for things to get incredibly uncomfortable. Alistair was jealous of Nathaniel, Nathaniel was territorial toward Alistair, and Elissa was still spitting mad at both of them. All three of them worried about Elissa in the morning.

"Am I allowed to ask that, or is that one of those things you're not telling us?"

At least she was just as angry with Nathaniel, if they'd spent all night making kissy faces at each other he might have been sick. The rogue's continuous apologetic looks toward her were bad enough. They'd spent the entire night quite pointedly not talking to each other, with Elissa getting gradually more and more agitated until she'd announced she was going to bathe in the freezing cold stream, which had certainly given Alistair enough mental imagery to keep him awake and alert for half the night, with the other half neatly taken care of by their shared nightmare.

"An afanc is a creature of plague, pestilence and famine." Elissa answered. "You guys aren't worried about your eternal souls, right?"

He was being good. He'd given himself a three day long lecture on why he wasn't going to interfere in Elissa's love life. There were plenty of compelling reasons. He was the one who left her, officially forsaking any emotional claim in her future actions. Her happiness was important. Nathaniel Howe actually seemed like the kind of person who could give her all the things she deserved where he had failed miserably. Also there was the juvenile and petulant aspect of it all. He just didn't want to make life harder on her.

"Our what?" Nathaniel asked.

"Oh, right. I forgot you still have a chance. You can turn back, if you want."

"Nice try, but no dice."

Of course, just being here was probably not helping things. It had been eight months since the fateful Landsmeet. Maybe she really didn't think about him like that anymore, maybe he was just making a nuisance of himself. Maybe he was doubting himself in the same way that used to drive her crazy. He couldn't believe that the same love that had shaken him down to his core and brought him to his knees was something she could just forget. And if she had, he had forced her to, he knew that.

"I'm not joking about the soul thing. I have it from the most reliable source available that the Maker won't approve of us breaking this seal."

"And how reliable is this source?"

"Well the book hasn't lied to me yet."

"And how many times have you consulted the book?"

"This would be the first."

"Uh huh."

This was just a little pathetic. She could tell them all she wanted that she would take all the risks, but that didn't mean neither of them could possibly get killed. He was risking his life, risking a war of succession, for a woman who probably thought he was just an annoyance when she had important things to do. That wasn't smart, and it didn't exactly smack of self respect, either. Would she do it for him, if the situation was reversed? He couldn't answer that with any confidence.

"People don't keep five hundred year old texts around if they're not good for something."

"That one would make a lovely conversation piece."

But that was practically a staple of her personality. Her little messiah complex drove everyone around her insane. If someone was missing and she didn't go racing after them, they'd either brought it on themselves or she hated them. Whether she had brought this on herself or not was arguable, considering she wouldn't tell them what the purpose behind any of this was, but he didn't hate her, and if she hated him... well, there was a fine line between love and hate. People usually earned her ire by the mass slaughter of innocents or something equally as heinous. Vaughan Urien never stood a chance after she learned of his 'parties'. Alistair certainly hadn't indulged in any of that behaviour.

"It wouldn't kill you to take this seriously. In fact it might save your life."

"Or my soul. I clearly see that, now."

"Quit that."

Hell, she got to be outrageously noble for no reward or praise, to save something important to her or make a point or just to champion virtue when no one else was interested in doing so. He was allowed this one. She could preach responsibility all she liked but there were plenty of times she put herself in danger when Ferelden needed saving when she could have, and should have, preserved herself. Plenty of people she let run free when they should have been put down. All those things were so important to her, well she was important to him, and as much as he hated to admit it, he'd do anything for her.

"I don't know, damning my eternal soul for the love of a woman, it's so dramatic. Maybe I'll get my own ballad."

"You're not going to get your own ballad. You're going to get kicked in the shins."

Of course it was pretty hard to convince himself of the nobly sacrificial qualities of his involvement when Elissa was looking like that. Something about her seemed to have changed in the Warden's Keep, she just looked ripe for touching and kissing. He knew her body inside and out, literally, and he was sure she'd never looked quite that voluptuous before. Then there was the aggressive protectiveness he felt after watching her nightmare, a kind of white hot fury when he thought of someone else touching her, especially if she didn't want to be touched. That wasn't the best thing to be feeling while on this little camping trip with her and her lover.

It couldn't be just his imagination, she hadn't looked that good when he first arrived in Amaranthine, but maybe that was because he was so used to seeing her in full plate. He still missed her smile, though, the one he'd never see again now because he was holding court in Denerim while she had her face ripped open by a broodmother.

"Alistair gets his own ballad, it just doesn't seem fair."

Elissa grinned. "_There once was a babe in arms, hidden deep in Redcliffe's charms..._"

"_His hair was straw, his chin was bold..._" Nathaniel continued.

"Don't," Alistair cut in. "Stop it, both of you."

"_They called him Alistair the Gold!_" They sang together and then started laughing.

"Fantastic," Alistair said. "I haven't heard that enough to last me a lifetime."

"But it was so heroic," Elissa cooed. "How you scaled Fort Drakon to rescue me."

"And how you rescued that kidnapped chantry girl," Nathaniel chimed in.

"And slew that dragon."

"Andraste's flaming sword! I actually did slay that dragon! You were there! You're wearing its scales! Everyone thinks I spent the entire Blight chatting up Leliana, now." He felt his ears turn pink. That bloody song, it was going to haunt him until his dying day.

"Is it true," asked Nathaniel, "that you convinced the workers at the Pearl to give up their life of sin, and then made love to them as honest women for the first time?"

Elissa nearly lost her footing, she was laughing so hard. Alistair himself turned an even deeper red. He couldn't believe Leliana put that verse in. He'd suffered enough embarrassment at the hands of those prostitutes, and Elissa loved every second of it. Of course, there was always room for a little revenge.

"No, the only thing I ever did at the Pearl was get some rather informative duelling lessons."

The commander's laughter cut off abruptly and her mouth snapped shut. She turned the most delightful shade of pink and quickened her pace.

"Look at that, we're here."

"Imagine that."

She broke into a run for the last few hundred feet to the top of the mountain. The snow didn't seem to touch one area of the rock and she flipped open the _Encyclopaedia Bestia_, absolutely intent on not continuing that line of conversation. Alistair grinned, it was nice to get one up on her occasionally.

Elissa took off one of her gloves and cut her thumb in the blade of her dagger, beginning to draw symbols on the sheer rock wall with her own blood. She checked and rechecked the book, making sure each one was correct, until finally the wall shimmered and faded away into a door. It looked vaguely familiar.

The doorway opened into a large stone chamber of ancient construction. It was almost bare, but a man stood, blocking their way forward. He was translucent, glowing in the light. And Alistair had seen him before. The same guardian who guarded the Urn of Sacred Ashes.

"I bid you welcome, pilgrim."

Elissa looked at the man for a long moment, then stamped her foot in the epitome of childishness.

"You have got to be _kidding _me!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Another Stupid Gauntlet**

–

"We seek the Guardian of Hope," Elissa grumped.

Round one of a Maker's gauntlet was annoying enough, she wasn't anxious to come back for seconds. Particularly since her intentions weren't anywhere near as pure as they had been last time. The Guardian was going to have a field day with them. Three deserters, one a king shirking his people, one a conscript saved from hanging, one with Taint poisoning, all three in love with at least one of the others.

"Elissa Cousland, Warden Commander, Hero of Ferelden," The Guardian rasped. "You are the finest warrior in a century, and a general without living comparison."

"Ask me your question, Guardian."

There was nothing to keep her on her toes like having the depths of her soul examined early in the morning. Maker, he was going to ask her about the men, about her fickle heart, she just knew it, this was going to suck.

"You keep a dark secret, one which may destroy you and those around you. Do you think that your friends have a right to know, when they follow you so faithfully? That they may understand your torment and offer relief?"

"Maybe they have a right to know, but if I fail, and I know I may fail, then... they don't need to know the consequences. That may be the only boon I can leave them with."

"You do not consider dying to be failure."

"It's not desirable, but no. Dying will just be readjusting my standards of success for this mission."

The Guardian nodded and Elissa stepped back. She couldn't escape the appalled looks from her two companions. They could judge all they wanted, she knew she was right in doing what she did, and the Guardian knew that or he wouldn't have let her go. If they wanted to keep going they'd keep their mouths shut.

"Warden Nathaniel, you do things that you are against in principle to aid a woman who your father died seeking to kill. You know that the Warden Commander does not wish your presence, and you have taken an oath that you intend to break, why do you insist?"

"I'm not going to let Elissa die because she's stubborn. There doesn't seem to be any beaten path for what we do here."

The guardian nodded, allowing Nathaniel to escape from his gaze. He turned his eyes to Alistair, but didn't speak for a long time.

"King Alistair, you regret your past decisions, but is that regret borne of wisdom in hindsight, or discontent over your present situation?"

Super awkward. Elissa winced. She didn't really want to hear the answer to that one. Alistair was frowning deeply, but it set her heart aflutter that he wasn't blushing or stammering as he had nine months ago at the same crossroads. He'd grown.

"I can't say."

"A wiser answer than it seems. The way is open. May you find what you seek."

They were back to awkward silence as the way opened, no one wanting to meet anyone else's eye. That Guardian certainly had a way of airing issues that people absolutely did not want to talk about, Elissa had to give him that. She pushed forward.

The tiny rock foyer opened out into a massive room, completely unadorned. Elissa looked around. There was no door leading forward, just four blank walls, and as they stepped forward the way back sealed off. The three of them looked around, waiting for their first test, but nothing happened.

Elissa sighed. Everything had to be hard. It wasn't enough that she was poisoned, dogged across the country, freezing cold and at the same time burning hot from the fertility treatment, no. Now she had to be trapped in a room with no obvious or discrete exits. Trapped with two jerks who had no idea what she was going through and were content to hound her when she was just trying to take care of her own business that had nothing to do with them, making sure that in addition to her own burdens she also had to worry about keeping them alive. She turned to Nathaniel.

"What did he mean, you're planning to break your oath?"

Nathaniel started. "What?"

"The guardian said you're planning to break your oath, and you didn't deny it."

"Well, since no one around here seems to be planning on telling the truth, what's one more white lie? You didn't mention to us that you were planning to kill yourself if things didn't work out. I guess it just slipped your mind."

Somehow the response fired off something in her brain, she wanted to tear his throat out for questioning her, for lying to her. She was the Warden Commander, not some damsel in distress who couldn't make her way in the world without a big strong man to protect her. They'd chosen to come out of some stupid sense of chivalry and then had the nerve to question her methods?

"I told you I was expendable, I told you I wasn't likely to live through this. And I _told you_ that if you wanted to come along you had to accept that!"

"You're still lying to us!" This time it was Alistair. "What are you hiding?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you."

"You think you're protecting us, but you're just making us come up with our own answers for what's worse than death!"

"Oh, a lesson in letting people make their own choices from Mr. Honour and Duty, how enlightening," she spat. "Not everyone can be as transparent as you two, which would be why I came to do this _alone_. Only, oh wait, you two aren't quite as transparent as you pretend to be."

"We're not the ones disappearing in the dead of night to go on suicide missions."

"I'm not the one butting into the life of someone who isn't any of my business anymore, or telling blatant lies that are going to get me killed just so people don't ask questions."

"Just because we're not together doesn't mean I don't care for you, which is more than –"

"– if you'd let me be honest we wouldn't be in that situation, and –"

"– you always acted like it was so easy to walk away from you, like you never believed a word I said –"

"– can never stand to let anyone in, no matter how much you need help –"

"How dare you!" Elissa shrieked. "You have absolutely no idea what's going on here, you just assume that I'm being dramatic, as if I have some deathwish that I can't fulfil without an audience of my tragic peers, when I didn't even want –"

"You've just got to be stubborn and never admit you need any help, like some kind of –"

"– so worried that someone might actually see you as a human instead of a Maker-sent saviour –"

"– just can't accept that I don't need a knight in shining armour to _rescue_ me –"

"– when you can't even just accept that I can handle the truth!"

"Stop," Alistair said.

"– like no one can live without you, we're so lost without your guidance that the whole country will fall into ruin without you, we're not that helpless!"

"You just can't accept that I had a life outside you, I didn't just pop into existence when we met, I actually –"

"Stop!" Alistair roared, quieting the bickering instantly.

Elissa breathed heavily through gritted teeth, still furious at them. She whipped her eyes from side to side, glaring at them, until a strange sound reached her ears. A sort of metallic clang. She followed Alistair's gaze down to his feet, where the tiny mabari pup hurled herself against his greaves, again and again, driven mad by rage.

"Dog!" She scooped the puppy into her arms, then held it at armslength as the dog took a snap at her face, snarling.

"Is anyone else feeling angry?" Alistair asked in clipped tones. "Irrationally angry?"

Nathaniel nodded, panting, and Elissa agreed. "This is our test."

The king pressed his lips together, the rogue gripped both handles of his daggers, both trying to calm down. Elissa wasn't having a lot of luck. Her blood had been made of fire since Warden's Keep, the additional stresses on her system were taking their toll. Her armour was too hot despite the freezing air, she was sweating.

"Elissa, I trust you." Alistair said. "If you say this is for the best, I won't question it. And Nathaniel... you have more right to be here than I do, I submit to you as Elissa's second."

"I trust Elissa, as well. And I understand why you need to be here, Alistair."

Both of them looked at her, and she knew she had to see reason, they had to be united if they were going to walk out of here, but she couldn't force the words from her mouth. Rage flowed through her, overtaking her. Dog whimpered in her hands, her fingers closing around the puppy's ribcage too tightly. She had to get a grip. Something in the room was inspiring this anger, the only way to defeat it was to let go.

"Liss," Nathaniel said warily. They could tell, they could tell that she wasn't dealing with this. The rogue's hands prised the dog out of her grip, letting the puppy breathe again. She looked from Nathaniel to Alistair, suddenly feeling vulnerable. They had both beaten this, why did it have such a massive hold on her?

"Elissa, get a grip," Alistair warned.

"Fight it. You can do this."

Her eyes burned. If they weren't here this wouldn't be a problem, they'd be somewhere safe. They wouldn't be at the mercy of her anger, they wouldn't be relying on her to beat this. If they were just a little less pig-headed, and had listened to her. This could have been avoided. Just like Amaranthine, just like the Keep. Alistair cast a glance at Nathaniel, then stepped toward her like he was approaching a mad dog.

"Elissa, look at me." He took both her hands in his own, twisting their fingers together.

She just wanted to run. The rage was turning to fear. They were going to die because of her. She should have left them in the tunnels, or talked them out of following, there must have been something she could have said to make them go away. She should have lied, should have hurt them, told them she didn't care about them and they were only making fools of themselves trying to help her. It would have worked, at least for long enough to make her exit.

Alistair's pulse thrummed through her hands, reverberated in her ribcage. He shouldn't be touching her. There was still time, she could force them to turn back. She could just run, shake this temple down stone by stone and run away, save them from this. She couldn't let this warmth fade, she couldn't let the world be deprived of him because she was weak.

"Elissa!" Alistair's voice made her eyes snap to his. "We're here because we love you. Whatever trouble you're in, we aren't going to leave you to deal with it alone anymore than you would abandon us. Don't ask us to do that."

"No..." The word broke through her lips without her permission. If either of them was poisoned she would go with them, hell or high water, no matter how they protested. "I won't. You can be here."

The admission brought with it an immediate sense of calm. Her heart slowed down to a regular pace and her ribcage no longer felt like it was trying to squeeze the life out of her.

Elissa realised her hands were still tangled with Alistair's and snatched them back like he burnt, suddenly uncomfortably aware of their proximity to Nathaniel and the general inappropriateness of the situation. Mercifully a door appeared in the far wall, letting them move forward and she practically ran for it.

Just when she thought things couldn't get anymore uncomfortable.

It was difficult, wanting to comfort them both, being unable to. She couldn't reach out and touch either one in front of the other. Even if it was perfectly reasonable, she wasn't that sadistic. They just had to work through this gauntlet and get the hell out, then she could breathe again.

Elissa was in such a hurry to get out of the rage room that she didn't watch where she was going and nearly toppled into a gaping chasm that spanned most of the next room.

She let out a squeak and dug into the ground, barely stopping herself in time. Hands grabbed her arms, steadying her. She smiled at Nathaniel, who let her go when she had regained her footing. This chasm didn't remind her at all of the previous gauntlet, which relied entirely on faith in her companions to cross.

But this was not the gauntlet of Faith, it was the gauntlet of Hope. A negligible difference, but one that apparently counted to the Maker.

"No switches this time, any ideas?" Alistair asked.

"Perhaps we're supposed to use these." Nathaniel examined the only obvious object in the room, a stack of light shale tiles, barely a hand length across.

"And do what, build a bridge?"

Elissa picked up one of the tiles and looked it over. No markings, no indication of its use. Good. She loved a puzzle. Maybe they fit against something. She looked around the room for indentations on the floor or walls, but nothing jumped out at her. The edges were regular, so they didn't fit together in any way.

"I think we need to act like intellectuals about this," she said. "The chasm for faith required faith. This one must require hope."

"Well I hope I sprout wings, or we might be trapped here forever," Alistair said.

"Hope is almost the same as faith, except it can be founded, I guess." Elissa frowned. That was pretty tenuous logic. "I don't think we have to do any blind jumping here."

The two men held the tiles up, examining them with the same look of studied interest she knew was on her own face, which undoubtedly mean they knew nothing and were trying to look smart about it. She knew that's what it meant to her. Hope alone couldn't propel them to the far side of the pit.

Nathaniel walked to the edge of the pit, looking down hesitantly. He looked at the tile in his hands, then back to the pit. With a shrug he tossed his tile into the chasm. Elissa was about to scold him for doing something so stupid when the tile stopped midair, simply hanging. Nathaniel looked more surprised than anyone else that it had worked.

"Hope this works," he said with a roguish grin. Then he leapt into the air.

"Nate, no!" Elissa yelled.

He landed gracefully on the tile, which seemed to support his weight without any problems. "I can't believe that actually worked. Toss me another, would you?"

"I thought we agreed that if there was any jumping into bottomless pits to be done, I would do it!"

Alistair threw another tile to Nathaniel. Traitor.

"Better you than me, Howe, but that took stones."

"That sounded suspiciously like a compliment, your majesty." He threw another tile ahead of him and made another leap. Alistair threw him a third tile, nearly causing him to lose his balance.

"Stop ignoring me! You both promised!" Elissa stormed.

Nathaniel made it to the far side after six tiles. Elissa picked up Dog the Second and jumped up, realising just how precarious the footing was, but determined to reach her lover and give him a black eye. The stones were easier to take at a run rather than trying to balance on each of them, and as she landed Nathaniel caught her. She raised her fist, ready to give him the beating he deserved for taking a foolish risk like that, but was distracted by a metallic clang.

Dog jumped to the ground and the three of them looked up at Alistair.

He wasn't wearing light leather, he was in full plate which wouldn't allow him to jump as far, and easily carried his momentum. He nearly fell from the first tile. Elissa clasped her hands together, not knowing what she could do to help him. He swayed dangerously with each leap, and the commander couldn't help a whimper escaping her lips when he slipped. Fear gripped her.

_Maker, let him get across, please, don't let him fall_.

She repeated her plea, her prayer. Another painful leap. The dagger he kept at his hip came free and bounced off the stone at his feet before falling. They didn't hear it hit the bottom. Elissa bit her lip, unblinking as she watched him. Nathaniel took her hand and let her squeeze down painfully. Damn fool, wearing plate armour to a leather affair. How could one man have circumstances so consistently against him for so long? Surely this was a rare talent.

He reached the last stone and grinned down.

"Are you going to catch me, too? No? Oh, I feel so left out."

He jumped down with a crash of steel against stone and Elissa flung her arms around his shoulders. Breathing in his scent she crushed herself against him, like hugging a steel wall, she stretched up on her tiptoes. He held her tightly, serious for just a moment.

Then she shoved him backwards. "You stupid, unlucky bastard. It's a miracle you survived that."

"It's nice to know you care," he laughed, falling back as she shoved him again.

"Let's just get this over with."

Like talking to a child, he really didn't seem to care that he nearly plummeted to his death right before her eyes. Next time she was covering her tracks better. She'd steal her entire damn wardrobe away, let them try to figure that out. At very least she'd bring something to stop them talking or moving. That was the charm of travelling with Morrigan, really, cone of cold was always on hand for troublesome companions.

She moved into the next room, not bothering to check if her two charges were following, and looked around. Well, it was no tomb of Andraste, but who was she to object? It had taken her forever to get through that damn Faith gauntlet.

A circular room greeted them. It was adorned with statues carved into the walls along with pillars that seemed to have no load bearing purpose, and focussed around a statue in the centre. An old man on a throne. He looked so ancient that he couldn't possible be human, this had to be the guardian of Hope. Upon closer inspection, he wasn't made of stone, but blackened ice. His impressive beard still held individual dew drops, frozen in place.

Elissa reached out and brushed her fingers over the carving, the spindly ends of his facial hair snapped off under her fingertips. What, was she supposed to murder an ice sculpture? Could she do that? She could certainly stick her dagger into it, that was a tried and true method of murdering things, if done with enough frequency and vigour.

The statue's eyes snapped open.

Elissa fell backwards with an undignified shriek. Nathaniel and Alistair started.

"Who disturbs me?" As the statue spoke it was clear that he was flesh and blood, his strange sheen a mixture of dust and ice accumulated over centuries. His voice was massive, loud and echoing, strangely disproportionate to his size.

"Uh... My name is Elissa Cousland, I am the Warden Commander of Ferelden."

"And who accompanies you, Warden Commander?"

"Warden Nathaniel Howe of Amaranthine and King Alistair Theirin of Denerim."

"I do not know these places. Have I slept for so long? Many ages have passed me by while I slept, but still mortals seek the afanc. Know you not what destruction this creature will weave?"

Elissa scrambled to her feet and tried to look dignified. She was here to kill this man, she could at least be polite.

"We don't want to release it, we want to kill it. I need the afanc's blood."

"The blood of an afanc cures no malady, it works no magic. What price will this blood fetch you, that you would risk all Thedas with its evil? You would turn away the Maker's word that this beast be sealed forever."

"I..." Elissa looked back at the two men accompanying her. She didn't want to tell them, didn't want to speak the words out loud. "Does it matter? If the beast is dead it poses no threat, your spirit can go back to the fade. There is no warrior more likely to succeed than I."

The spirit let out a low hum, his head drooping forward. One frozen hand reached toward her, the ice and stone cracking away as he moved, Elissa removed her glove and met his freezing touch. She'd give him any answer he wanted, so long as she didn't have to speak those words.

"You are only part human," Hope said. "Your blood is many things. Dragon, darkspawn, lyrium, plant and stone. You have altered yourself many times over, and now this blood is your enemy. Tell me, child, what do you think this blood will bear?"

Elissa swallowed thickly. "I don't know. I don't want to find out. You know the danger, it exists both ways. If we slay you, the afanc may escape, if we don't, there may be a new horror to contend with. But there is the hope of ridding the world of the afanc completely, and I plan to try."

Hope met her eyes, his every movement painfully slow.

"You speak of hope, and I believe you. Know that the Maker himself will strike at you should you prove too weak. My sister, Mercy, shall not be so easily convinced. If you cannot slay her then you have not the mettle to defeat the afanc."

"You're... letting me kill you?"

"Hope is the greatest warrior." The old spirit squeezed her hand. "With hope by his side, one man may take on an army, and no army may ever win a battle once hope has abandoned them. An afanc has no hope, he fights a war he can never win, and that is why I bind him. Give me a warrior's death, dragon."

Elissa clutched his hand and pressed a kiss to his cheek. The old spirit felt brittle to her touch. She took Duncan's dagger from her hip, and with a final clasp of his fingers, slid it through his cracking skin, into his heart. The spirit took a great wheezing breath, then stilled. Shockingly red blood poured onto her fingers.

The commander stayed prone for a long moment, breathing in the soul of Hope with reaver's ease as it escaped into the fade. She reached up and closed his eyes, letting the old man rest at last. She couldn't help the way her eyes burned with tears, but blinked them back. His sacrifice would not be forgotten. With a sniff she turned to her companions. Alistair was watching with an awed shock, as if he didn't quite believe what he had just seen. Nathaniel looked wary, not convinced it had been that easy.

"Nate?" she asked.

"Six," he said. "Very efficient, but it lacked flash."

Elissa forced a grim smile onto her face, hands still warm from the spirit's blood.

"Come on," she said, "help me find something to build a pyre."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**The Rape of Elissa Cousland**

–

The sun was setting over the lake, casting long shadows across the campsite. Nathaniel dumped another armful of wood onto their proposed campfire and began arranging it to be lit. Usually he'd leave the heavy lifting to the warriors, but anything to avoid actually talking to the others. He had never had a less pleasant journey in all his days.

He had to admit, Alistair wasn't as bad as he first thought. Even if his constant jokes did get annoying, shutting him up was as easy as humming the first few bars of _Ballad of the Golden King_, which came with the added amusement of watching him turn bright pink. The real killjoy of their little trio was Elissa. He couldn't say exactly what happened in the two days they had been apart, but he'd never seen her so inconsistent with herself. She was flitting between inconsolably sombre and incredibly childish. Added to that her steadily increasing anger and the hungry, wanton glances she was occasionally casting his way and Nathaniel didn't know what to make of her.

Then there were the looks. He couldn't believe these two had actually managed to get through an entire courtship. They never seemed to want to say a damn thing straight, instead exchanging it for mournful gazes, or lustful, or angry or adoring or just downright inscrutable. He would have been angry with Elissa for such a display right under his nose, but it was becoming increasingly clear that something was not right with her.

The one thing he was sure of was that they were still in love with each other. Now there was a blow to his manly pride. He wasn't particularly worried. Elissa would rather eat her own blade than admit she was still in love, Alistair had wounded her pride badly and she wasn't the kind to easily, or ever, forget that.

Elissa dragged a dead deer back to camp and began skinning it voraciously. That was another thing. She was basically inhaling whole animals, he'd seen new recruits try to lick the patterns off their plates, but what she was doing was ridiculous. He knew that he and Alistair would be lucky to get a bite of that deer. It shouldn't have been physically possible to eat the amount she was eating. Her only activities on this journey were eating, sleeping, losing her temper and casting hungry looks around, and she was adhering to all of them with admirable devotion.

Nathaniel frowned. Those symptoms sounded strangely familiar, twigging a memory in the back of his mind, from when he was just a boy. His mother had started acting like this just before they told him he was going to have a little sister. That couldn't be it, could it? It would certainly explain why she was so hesitant to talk about it. She'd assured him that two Grey Wardens couldn't have a child.

He shook his head. That wasn't something he wanted to think about, she'd tell him when she was ready if that was the case. But the idea wasn't so easily dislodged. Watching her begin to char the venison on the fire, he tried to imagine her belly swollen with child. He couldn't see it. A baby had no place with the Wardens, no place in Vigil's Keep.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Elissa asked.

"Hmm?" Nathaniel hadn't realised he was staring.

"You're staring."

"I'm wondering where you're putting that venison. Your stomach can only hold so much."

She tore off a hunk of half cooked meat with her teeth, like a savage dog. "I'm hungry and cranky, don't make fun of me."

Nathaniel watched Alistair surreptitiously leave the campsite, not citing a destination. He was thankful for some private time with Elissa, they did need to talk.

"About the crankiness. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"It's not in my best interests to say it, but you and the king seem to have some unresolved issues. Maybe you should think about working through some of them before you take someone's head off literally."

"There's nothing unresolved." She pouted. "All things are tied up in a neat little package. What I had with him is over, now I'm with you."

"Clearly. And you're nursing your wounded pride with such grace."

Elissa scowled at him, swallowing another chunk of meat, the juices dripping down her chin. "Grace is my middle name."

"You could just talk to me instead of making jokes."

"I'm not joking, Grace really is my middle name." She saw he was unimpressed and sighed. "So I'm not quite over being treated like a brood mare just yet. That's not unreasonable, is it?"

"You're still in love with him."

"That's not fair."

"It's the truth. I'm not accusing you of anything, you made it plain to me that you weren't given a choice in the ending of your relationship, that makes healing difficult. But if you keep up this foul mood you're going to start regretting your actions." Nathaniel wasn't used to playing the role of peace keeper, but someone was going to get killed if they couldn't trust each other and he felt some responsibility as her lover to help her work through her issues.

"It's not just that. I... Well..." She stumbled over her words, her face flushing. "I made a discovery at Warden's Keep. The kind that doesn't sit right with me."

Nathaniel narrowed his eyes. "About Alistair?"

"No. Yes. Kind of. About what happened between us, about how it ended, I guess. I don't know!" She grasped her head in her hands, stressed out. "I just kind of found out that if he'd wanted to keep me, he could have. There's a way I can have children. Maker, I can't believe I'm saying this to you of all people. You know this is just hindsight, don't you? I don't want to be with him, not after how he left me, I have more self respect than that."

"I don't understand. Why were you looking for a way to have children?"

"I wasn't. It's just... you remember your promise not to ask questions?"

"Tell me what you can," he said.

"There's this treatment, it was developed for Warden Commander Sophia Dryden so that she could have children. She ended up having three boys. The potion has a lot of other effects, and it was one of those I needed." She refused to meet his eyes, examining her boots rigorously.

"Would this have something to do with your, well, new and improved physique?"

"You noticed that, huh?" She smiled wryly. "Yes, for all intents and purposes I am now a baby making machine. The taint in my system is suppressed, my hormones are peaking, and my appetites are all going at full blast. I can't actually conceive, but with three months or so of treatment my body would be back in order. That would also be why I'm not very collected right now."

Nathaniel breathed a sigh of relief. Not pregnant. Thank the Maker. Also not likely to explode from venison poisoning, which was a bonus. He let out a breath he had been holding. So she wasn't pregnant, but she could be. No wonder she was in such a state.

"So Alistair left because he thinks you can't have children, and now you can, but you refuse to tell him?"

"If he doesn't want me barren then he can't have me fertile," Elissa said with a scathing look. "Are you objecting? Do you want me to leave you and beg him to take me back?"

"I think you should tell him, if nothing else to get it off your chest."

"Yeah, I guess," she sighed. "I really have bigger things on my mind."

He reached out and took her hands. She was warm and soft, whatever she had taken made her just right to fall into his arms. It made her so feminine, even in her armour. She seemed all the more giving for the hard leather and scale she was dressed in. She settled into his arms with a sigh.

"You can tell me anything."

"I know I can. It's not that I don't trust you, I just couldn't bear to say it out loud."

He pulled her closer, settling her between his knees. If she was too scared to speak on what was happening then he trusted it was too terrible to speak on. So instead he held her, letting her bury her face in his hair and take shuddering breaths to calm herself. She went limp in his embrace, exhaustion finally catching up to her strained body and mind, her nuzzling against his neck became weak. Nathaniel stroked her hair.

He let one arm wrap tightly around her waist, a more prominent curve than usual, her hips and breasts swollen, and he licked his lips. Those hungry eyes she had been giving him for days haunted his thoughts. She was looking so good, her whole body ready and anxious to be taken. He had been missing those legs.

"You know," he murmured into her ear. "We seem to have the camp to ourselves for now."

He heard a quick intake of breath and she looked up at him, giving him a relieved smile.

"Maker, yes, we do. Now."

Without another word he stood up and found himself dragged into his tent. It was like she had been waiting for this since they'd first met up in the tunnels, he found himself pinned to the ground under her eager hands. Her eyes were wild, her body ready, her need palpable.

She bit her lip until it bled, but couldn't contain her screams.

In the forest Alistair pressed his forehead against a tree, trying to block out the sound of Elissa's moans. He couldn't stop imagining Nathaniel's hands on her skin, her legs slung around his hips, his mouth against hers. What he wouldn't give to be the one in that tent with her.

With a growl the king stalked deeper into the forest, away from the noise. They could always do with more firewood.

–

_The tent is warm and light, a lamp illuminating the small space. Elissa tries to take a deep breath, but it's not coming right. Alistair is there with her, his shirt gone, and he has a divine body. He's smiling at her and she can't think straight. Her whole body trembles uncontrollably._

_Her brain is screaming at her that she's being stupid. He's the one who has never done this before, she could throw him down and rock his world, leave him begging for more. But the words aren't penetrating her heart. This is different. She's had sex before, but this is making love and the fear that she's not good enough for him is unbearable. She's never wanted anything as badly as she wants him. And not just him, that's not enough, she wants to be his first, wants to take him there for the first time._

_His lips are on her neck and she's trying to calm her heart, the feeling of stubble scraping against soft skin is so good. Her fingers grasp at his massive shoulders, he's crawling on top of her, she's sure that she's going to shake apart. If her heart beasts any faster if might wear itself out, it might leap from her chest, might pound a hole in her ribcage. Curled fingers push her cotton shirt up, sliding underneath and she lets herself fall back onto the ground. Maybe he won't notice how nervous she is. A large, warm palm ghosts across her breast and she feels like she's been hit by lightning. A whimper escapes her throat and now her quivering is unmistakeable. His fingers are burning her._

_It's the reverence in his face that stops her from falling apart completely. As he lifts her shirt over her head, the fabric warmed by his body heat and soft against her skin, his eyes are filled with wonder. It's too much for her. She knows what men like, and it's not a girl too nervous to even touch them, but she's at his mercy. Her own fear of not being right for this gorgeous, golden man is making her useless. She forces her hands to move, running her fingertips up his ribs and down his back, biting into his skin with her nails. His moan strikes all along her spine._

_She won't beg. She won't. This is his first time, he can't bring her undone like this._

_They're both naked and she wants to scream her frustration. This foreplay will be her undoing. If he doesn't take her soon the fever will consume her. A hand runs up her thigh and her nails dig into his knees. Maker, she needs him. He toys with her, watching, touching, his fingers exploring unfamiliar territory and testing where to stroke and where to push to make her back rise up off the ground, rip groans from the back of her throat._

"_Please, Alistair..." She sacrifices her pride with a hoarse whimper._

_Then he's on her, in her, her knees pressed into his side. She's complete. Ecstasy or agony, she can't tell. He sears her skin everywhere he touches. His stubble against her neck, his skin gliding across her inner thighs, one free hand running along her shoulder, her breast, her hip, it's overwhelming. He's all coiled muscle, silk over steel. Her hips rise up to meet him instinctively, desperate for more contact, more friction._

_Words form in her brain, trying to escape her mouth with her rolling moans. _I love you. Tell me this is forever. I'm never letting go. I can't survive without you.

_It sounds insane, obsessional, even to her own mind. Her throat clamps down on the words, she can't say them. If he didn't return them her heart would break. She's sure she'll die if he stops. She's going to succumb soon, shamefully quickly, she can't help it. He's all instinct and no technique, but she doesn't want skill, she wants him. His raw need for her is breaking her insides into pieces she can't collect or reconcile. She's flying higher than she ever thought possible._

_Elissa squeezes her eyes shut, a keening wail rips from her chest as she comes undone around him. Her heart thunders in her ears, he's still pushing into her, faster and rougher. Her back leaves the ground, her fingernails must be drawing blood, she's lost control. It goes on and on, oh, Maker, she's not going to survive this._

_Her mind swims, becoming her own again although she's still wrapped around her lover, urging him on with her heels pressed into the small of his back. It feels different, not right anymore. His back feels strange under her hands, clammy somehow, a strange texture. Maybe she really has injured him. _

_She opens her eyes and a scream is cut off by a hand around her throat. All the air leaves her lungs, her insides freeze. No longer Alistair, a hurlock is on top of her, taking her. She tries to struggle but suddenly her limbs aren't responding to her commands, frozen in horror. She can feel the creature inside her, pushing into her hypersensitive flesh. The beast leers at her, wordlessly mocking her helplessness. It's being deliberately rough with her, replacing euphoria with pain. She writhes, her hips rock backward, trying to shy away from her attacker to no avail._

_The hand around her throat is gnarled, claws drawing blood, cutting off her air supply but keeping her alive. She can smell the stench of death, it clings to her, nausea tears through her belly. Even when she closes her eyes, trying to deny what's happening, she can still smell it, still feel its foul chest rubbing against her breasts as it thrusts. She can't scream, she can't fight back, has no hope of stopping this assault. All she can do is endure._

_So she closes her eyes and begins to cry._

Alistair's eyes flew open. He choked_, _visions still swimming before his eyes. Oh Maker, not another of Elissa's nightmares. A wave of nausea welled up in his stomach, but he pushed it down. At first he'd thought it was some hopeful dream, a pleasant memory where she felt all the things he wanted her to feel, but no. Whatever tormented her had stolen that night and twisted it horribly. His fists clenched in anger.

The others were stirring, he could hear them, and he stumbled out of his tent. Whatever horror he felt was sure to have hit Elissa tenfold. He had no sooner stepped out in the open than Elissa burst from Nathaniel's tent, wearing nothing but a long cotton shirt, sobbing hysterically.

She took several shaky steps toward the fire and grasped her head in her hands, choking, hiccuping, like she was trying to force something from her body. Tears ran rivers down her cheeks in volumes he hadn't thought possible. She fell to her knees, her body wrenching with the force of her sobs. Alistair glanced at Nathaniel, who didn't seem to know if he should approach her or not. Their eyes met.

"Please," Alistair said. Nathaniel nodded curtly and moved away, giving them some privacy. The king didn't have time to be embarrassed that another had been let in on one of the most precious and private moments of his life. He knelt down next to Elissa.

When she saw him a fresh wave of tears flooded from her eyes and she jerked away. He reached out and cupped her face with one hand, forcing her to look at him. Her eyes pleaded with him, begging him to take away what she had just seen. Her face contorted with pain. A red patch was blossoming on her white shirt and he realised she had clawed at her own legs in her sleep, leaving long red scratches up her hips.

"Elissa, that wasn't how it happened. You know that."

"They took it," she sobbed. "They took my memory and... and..."

Alistair pulled her into his arms. She crushed herself against his bare chest, sobbing inconsolably. He didn't know what to do, there was nothing he could do to take away her pain, so he just wove a hand through her hair and held her close.

"It's alright, beautiful. It was just a nightmare."

"It's not, they're... going... to take me..." She tried to talk through her tears, heaving air into her lungs. "Don't... let them!"

"No one's going to take you. I won't let that happen."

"They're in my head, I can't keep them away! You have to kill me!"

Alistair grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him. Her eyes were wide with terror, her mouth open in pain, her request completely earnest.

"Elissa, tell me what's happening to you? Why are you having these nightmares? Why can we see them? I can help you, just trust me."

Tears continued to stream down her face, but her eyes stayed open, fixed to his. He'd never seen such unabashed fear in her before. Her mouth twisted, frowned, grimaced in terror until she managed to straighten it out to talk.

"Darkspawn can communicate with each other and Grey Wardens can hear it."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm t-turning. I've b-been poisoned. I'm turning into a broodmother."

"No."

The ground seemed to fall out from beneath him. His mouth denied it, but he already knew it was true. The dreams, the bruises, the blood, it all add up. He pulled her back against his chest, letting her cry, feeling tears well up in his own eyes. Maker, this couldn't be happening. Images flashed behind his eyes, Hespith, and her tale of her companion raped and tortured until she wasn't a person anymore, tearing her husband's face off and eating his flesh.

No, not Elissa. Please, no. Maker, he'd give anything to spare her. That dream could never become a reality. The only way to ensure that was to kill her, it would be merciful. Alistair couldn't imagine such a thing, Elissa dead at his hands, the very thought made him ill, but it was still a thousand times better than letting her turn into a broodmother.

"The blood?" he asked hoarsely.

"Might work. It's not a guarantee."

"Why would you try to do this on your own?"

If this blood didn't work he'd have to run her through. He'd have no choice. There was no way he could let her go through the transition, he couldn't watch that, he couldn't live knowing that she was a broodmother. The very word filled him with revulsion.

"I didn't want you to know. If I failed..."

The gravity of the situation was crushing him. So many times they walked into certain death, it was practically a given that any mission they went on was life or death, usually overwhelmingly weighted toward death, it had lost its impact. The ferocity of a half dozen legendary figures always carried them through. But this time it was very, very real. They couldn't get out of this with any amount of skill. They were riding on luck, and knowing their luck, it wouldn't hold.

These were the final days of Warden Commander Elissa Cousland.

Alistair hunched over, letting his lips hover over her ear so Nathaniel couldn't hear him when he whispered to her.

"I was thinking the same things, that first night. I didn't say them because I knew if I did I'd never be able to give you up, not for anything."

She let out a shuddering sob into his chest.

"Don't. Don't say that."

"I came back because I thought if I saw you happy with your new life I could move on, and if I couldn't I knew I had to swallow my pride and beg you to take me back."

"Alistair..."

"I'm sorry I let someone else take you first."

"Nathaniel is good to me. He's good _for_ me."

"I respect that. I won't interfere."

"This can't be love, Alistair," she cried. "Love can't _hurt_ this much. It hurts every second I'm not with you, and when I'm with you it hurts that I'm not in your arms, and when I'm in your arms, it hurts that I can't get close enough. That's not how it is with Nathaniel, it's just easy and simple and painless. That's how it's supposed to be."

He wanted to kiss her, to press his mouth to hers and feel all his pain and desperation mirrored by her. He could almost feel her lips and tongue surrendering to him, salty with her tears, humming with her moans. But she wasn't his anymore, the better man had won. So instead he let her cry, holding her tightly. If companionship was all he could offer her then he would give it wholeheartedly. She deserved that much from him, after all he'd put her through. No sacrifice could make up for the fact that he'd abandoned her to this fate when he chose the crown over her.

Eventually Elissa sobbed herself into exhaustion and allowed Alistair to pick her up. He carried her over to where Nathaniel stood, white faced and haggard. The two men reached a silent agreement that they weren't going to speak about what had just transpired. Alistair knew he shouldn't be able to sleep, but he felt like every ounce of his energy, physical and emotional, had just been ripped out of him. He passed Elissa to Nathaniel.

"Try to get her to sleep. She's going to need rest."

The rogue nodded.

Alistair returned to bed, pictures of monstrosities and his tortured love swimming behind his eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**Sometimes Spitfires Really Do Spit Fire**

–

The southern peak of Lake Calenhad was less miserable than the north, but that did nothing to alleviate the morbid thickness in the air. Everything was out in the open. Elissa had confessed all, and she was sure that she heard somewhere that confessions were supposed to clear the air. Of course, her utterly mortifying display of weakness hadn't lightened any moods. Just thinking of that dream made her shake with anger and shame. It was bad enough that the men had to see that, her total disarray on her first night with Alistair, but when the dream turned they also certainly saw how she froze with terror, became helpless, didn't even fight back. The way the poison had misappropriated that precious memory almost paled in comparison with the way she had shared it.

Alistair's whispered admission had twisted up something sour inside her. She knew why he did it, he realised that she only had days left and wanted her to know that he loved her. Maybe in another circumstance she would have melted into a puddle on the ground to hear those words, but she didn't want these last few days to be clouded with doubt and uncertainty. She didn't want him to love her because he was about to lose her. She wanted this to stop. Alistair only ever seemed to love her when there was nothing in the way, inconvenient things like having a future or trying to conceive children seemed to nip those sentiments in the bud. Maybe she was being unfair on him, but his perfect templar discipline made her feel weak and pathetic for wanting to break all the rules.

So they were all back to awkward. Only Dog the Second was happily unaware of what had transpired, so she focussed on the puppy who was just deliriously happy to be on the move again, snapping at butterflies and falling on her face now and then. She brought a smile to Elissa's face. Oh, to be a puppy.

The lake was amazing in the high sun, sparkling in the sunlight and reflecting the forest that surrounded it. She might have to take a holiday to this area if she managed to survive the next twenty four hours.

The southern peak had no mountains, so the rock wall looked entirely out of place in the greenery. At least they weren't trying to make this harder than it had to be. She wondered if Mercy knew her brother was dead, already. Had she felt it when the barrier weakened? Did the Maker tell her? Elissa always hated pissing off deities, and she really wished that she didn't have prior experience to give her that preference. Sometimes she wondered how her life had become so screwed up.

"How does a creature stay trapped for five hundred years?" Alistair asked. "Surely we aren't the first to seek it out."

"Like Hope said, it has no magical properties to speak of, there probably isn't much reason to seek it out." Elissa shrugged.

She flipped open the _Encyclopaedia_ and cut her thumb against her dagger. Three symbols, each impossibly complex, she traced them out fastidiously. The wall shimmered and disappeared under her touch. A year ago she would have thought that an amazing sight, now it seemed like a cheap trick. Now, Wynne channelling a benevolent fade spirit to heal mortal wounds, that was a magic trick.

The three of them stepped inside and Elissa raised an eyebrow. No gauntlet this time. The room was almost identical to Hope's chamber, maybe a little bigger, and the carvings here were more aggressive, more warlike.

Mercy stood before them. She wasn't anything like her brother. Instead of the ancient crone frozen to the ground she was a young woman, maybe a few years older than Elissa. She wasn't even sitting, instead standing tall with her arms raised as if displaying herself for an audience. There was no ice here, although the centuries of accumulated dust seemed to have had a similar effect in making her look as if she was made of grey stone. The truly spectacular feature of her was the spiderwebs. They draped and folded around her like some kind of elaborate wedding veil.

"Mercy, awaken," Elissa evoked her.

Mercy's eyes snapped open. Unlike her brother who seemed to have awakened from a long sleep, she looked more as if they'd removed a paralysis spell from her. Her eyes darted around and she lowered her arms slowly, assessing her surroundings.

"Who disturbs me?" Her voice was lilting and ethereal, more like a musical instrument than a human voice.

"Warden Commander Elissa Cousland, accompanied by Warden Nathaniel Howe of Amaranthine and King Alistair Theirin of Denerim."

Elissa clutched at her blades, aware that this would not be a pushover like Hope. Mercy turned her eyes on her, although she didn't seem to be able to see, giving the unnerving experience of being seen through. The woman stepped off her dais, approaching the Warden with an air of reverence.

"Mercy is the most difficult virtue, for she demands a sacrifice of pride, the most insidious temptation. Mercy binds the afanc for it knows none, each victim is the same and inconsequential to the beast. You know of Mercy, Warden Commander, yet you seek to risk the afanc's escape."

"We can kill it, we need its blood."

Mercy smiled beatifically and cupped Elissa's face in her hands.

"You suffer so, child. You've suffered at the hands of sin and virtue, you suffer at the hands of your fear, and soon you will suffer at the hands of your enemy. Your companions suffer envy, they suffer pride, they will only suffer more for your intervention. I can show you Mercy."

It took a moment for Elissa to realise what she meant, but by then the air had already started to crackle with electricity. She yelped and tried to leap backwards, but it was too late.

The floor lit up like fireworks, lightning running through every crack and crevice. It hit the insulated soles of Elissa's boots, but the others weren't so lucky. Nathaniel fell, only exposing more of his skin to the deadly force. Alistair's armour conducted the power, frying him viciously. The king roared in pain, being tortured by Mercy, the sound tearing at Elissa's insides. Dog the Second howled, the tiny puppy jerking helplessly.

Elissa raised her elbow and struck Mercy in the side of the head. It was like hitting a stone wall, hurting herself more than anything else and not so much as ruffling the ancient spirit, but the lightning stopped.

Dog the Second lay on the ground, unmoving. The commander turned furious eyes back to the mage.

"Don't fight me," Mercy begged. "I'll stop your pain."

Elissa bared her teeth and advanced on Mercy. She slammed Duncan's dagger into her side, the blade sunk deep. She saw the mage's hand come down and was too slow to dodge. It hit with the force of an iron bar, sending her sprawling across the room. Her back slammed against a wall, forcing all the air from her lungs. The wound in the statue's side healed over before it could even begin to bleed.

Mercy raised her hands.

"Alistair, shield bash!" Elissa shouted.

The king slammed his shield under Mercy's ribs and ricocheted off her almost comically, but she stuttered in her casting. Elissa scrambled up the wall, seeking purchase on the statues protuberances. Nathaniel followed her lead, but Alistair was too heavy in his armour. The floor lit up again, this time white mist seeped from the cracks in the ground. The king knew better than to move as his lower legs froze, lest they shatter.

Damnit, she needed to think. Mages weren't supposed to be made of stone, that was against all the rules. She had only a very limited amount of magic, and nothing guaranteed to work. She sent her silent thanks to Justice for his tutelage.

Elissa looked down at her poor puppy and thanked her for her sacrifice. She opened up her tiny tear in the veil and breathed in Dog's death, then used the power to fuel a spirit, channelling it toward Mercy. She felt the power snap in her palm, bringing it to bear. A purple bolt shot into the ancient statue and for the first time she stumbled.

The mist dissipated.

Alistair looked up at her, wide eyed. Dammit, she didn't have time for his fear of magic right now, though she supposed it probably wouldn't have hurt to let him know she'd started dabbling before they were in the heat of battle.

"Move!" Elissa shouted.

Mercy's face crumpled.

"You've all suffered so much, why do you cling to this painful life?"

Too late Elissa realised she hadn't injured Mercy, just irritated her. A purple cloud formed above her head, swirling and tumbling, slimming, shaping, refining itself until a glowing spear remained. It turned on Elissa.

She jumped down just as the spear slammed into the wall above her head, shattering the statue she had clung to until only the silver rod it had been sculpted around remained.

The witch could be damaged, she just healed quickly. If she could strike with enough force she might get somewhere. Now she was badly missing her longswords. Still, she had the two best daggers ever made, she was going to use them all she could. She brought up the dream from the night before, picturing the leering face of the hurlock, remembering how violated and humiliated she felt.

It was all she needed. Red filled her vision until the whole world was scarlet. Berserker's strength flooded her veins. She let out a battle cry and hurled herself forward.

Her blades tore at Mercy, digging in anywhere she could reach, her breast, her belly, her arms, her ribs, her throat. She needed to see the blood. She wanted the innards spilling out, a scream of pain, this beast had to suffer to sate her rage. She lost her daggers, tearing at flesh with her bare hands. She could see the blood, but was caught be surprise when iron hands closed around her wrists and tossed her away as if she were a ragdoll.

Elissa prepared to throw herself forward again, but hands caught her elbows. Nathaniel held her back.

"No use. Poisons and spell disruption arrows are useless as well."

She nodded, calling on her training to keep her calm without losing her rage. She had more where this came from, if she could just locate an appropriate weapon she was going to tear Mercy into little Mercy-flavoured strips. Her damn _puppy_. The sheer, outrageous audacity.

Another purple cloud formed above her head and everyone crouched low, waiting until the spear had formed and watching carefully to see its trajectory. Mercy looked between them, utterly bemused by their resistance. Alistair leapt aside with a clatter of armour as the statue behind him exploded.

Elissa hissed in anger, kneeling, both hands on the ground. If spirits could damage her, she could make spirits. There was no death to feed on, so she had to take it straight from her own blood, already running hot from her treatment and her rage. She called on her dragon blood, imagining the aura around her. The crooks of her elbows prickled and she felt the skin break, leaking blood down her arms. The cloud around her took form, filling the room.

Mercy, Nathaniel and Alistair all let out yells of surprise and pain. The cloud, invisible to them, tugged at their veins, spirits weaving and breaking through their systems. Crimson dripped down her forearms, slipping beneath her gloves.

"This is foolishness," Mercy sighed.

White sparks threaded between her fingers, she held her hands together, and pointed her joined fingers at Nathaniel.

He froze. Not through shock or fear, he simple stopped moving mid-stride, completely paralysed. Elissa ran for him, already knowing what was coming.

Mercy held out her palm and a perfectly uniform white spike shot out of her hand.

Elissa tackled Nathaniel out of the way, the spike tearing up the wall behind him. His paralysis instantly broke, but the movement weakened her, the blood in her arms running more freely as her muscles worked. The three of them spread out around the room, trying not to give her more than a single target for her paralysis.

"Elissa!" Alistair yelled. "Turn that damn aura off, it's hurting us all!"

She nodded, but then Mercy pointed both hands at her. Elissa froze. She couldn't move her body, no matter how hard she tried. Her mind flashed back to her dreams. Paralysed, at the mercy of darkspawn, screaming but immobile as they prepared to rape her, unable to even fight off a single hurlock who invaded her dream. She couldn't scream, her lungs were frozen. She saw a shot of red through one of her eyes. The blood pumped furiously from her elbows.

Alistair dragged her away from the ice spear, it struck the wall behind her harmlessly.

"Liss," Nathaniel gasped. "What are you doing?"

She watched both of them double over in pain. She couldn't answer, couldn't form coherent words. Reavers drew their power from their own fear, berserkers from rage. She was losing blood fast, but couldn't contain herself. All she saw was Mercy, all she wanted to see was Mercy torn limb from limb. It was the only way to be safe.

She flung herself at the spirit, grabbing her wrists with undeniable strength, stopping her from casting again. Bones broke in her grip, she tore and shredded, her daggers gouging at tender flesh. Part of her mind, far away, told her that this was as useless as it had been the last two times, but she was so far beyond caring. She just wanted to hear that rip and crack of tendons snapping that would tell her she'd managed to rip the bitch's arms off. All too soon stone hands cast her off again, but she didn't even feel the floor as it hit her, she was on her feet again.

"We need a weapon," Alistair said through the fog. "Something that can hurt her."

"We've tried everything we have," Nathaniel's voice drifted to her.

A weapon. That was it. Her daggers were useless, her hands were useless. Alistair was probably already draining Mercy's magic as fast as he could, they weren't going to get any more effective. No arrows, sword and shields, but the shield had given her pause for thought. A blunt force, something strong enough to keep her at bay, keep her from healing herself.

A glimmer of silver caught her eye. Where each statue had shattered, the holding bar still stood, completely untouched by her magic.

Elissa grabbed hold of the nearest bar and tugged. It was rooted within the rock and barely budged, even under her bloodily enhanced strength. She growled in frustration and began channelling spirits from the fade. She pulled again and hear the rock crack.

"Liss..." Nathaniel warned.

She looked back and saw Mercy's hands pointed at her. She pulled again, hearing another crack. The paralyse spell bounced harmlessly off her, unable to penetrate the blood frenzy that powered her. She could hear the ice spear forming in the air, Mercy seeing that she was a stationery target.

With a roar, Elissa focussed all her strength and used her bodyweight to pull on the bar, the stone snapped and she pulled harder, heaving against the stone. With a final snap the bar came free, and Elissa turned around just in time to see the spear fly.

A gold blur slammed into her side and she was sent flying, her shoulder crashing painfully against the ground.

Alistair fell to the ground, an ice spear protruding from his chest.

The whole world ground to a stop. There were no last words, no goodbyes. He was gone, just a lifeless doll sprawled beside her. His beautiful eyes were still open, devoid of all light. The icicle had pierced his armour as if it were cloth, gone straight through his chest. Blood was beginning to pool on the ground.

Elissa's fist clenched around the silver bar.

The world turned red.

There was screaming, and breaking, stone was tearing apart. The coppery stench of blood filled the air, she couldn't say who it belonged to. There was something wet and soft under her fingers, she couldn't tell if she still held her weapon. The snapping of tendons gave her a furious pleasure.

At some point she blacked out, because the next thing she knew the world was the right colour again and she was on her knees. Mercy, what was left of her, was sprayed across her dais, more like body parts than a body. She felt something glassy forced between her teeth and a cool liquid was poured down her throat. Her arms were burning and she looked down. The skin of her lower arms was invisible under dried blood.

She couldn't deal with Nathaniel's look of horror, she couldn't guess what he had just witnessed. Everything that had possessed her was gone, her rage spent. She couldn't come up with a reason to keep breathing off the top of her head.

She climbed to her feet, her whole body numb.

Alistair stared at her through unseeing eyes. She began to unbuckle his upper armour, she'd need it. She'd looted dead people before, this was no difference. He had plate that he wasn't using. Pauldrons, vambrace, rerebrace, helm, she needed them. None of the rest would fit her. She piled the golden armour to one side and then stood over him.

Just another dead body. She'd seen so many before. She'd made more than a few herself. Just another body.

"You _fuck!_" she screamed, kicking the dead king in the ribs. "You stupid, selfish, pig-headed fuck! I was supposed to die, not you! _You promised!_"

She kicked him again and again, tears clouding her vision. His cuirass dented with the force of her blows, but he didn't respond, didn't move.

The bastard probably hadn't even thought it through. He'd probably just seen the danger and instinctively pushed her out of the way. Like his life was nothing, worthless. Like he didn't have an entire country counting on him. Like he didn't have people who loved him and needed him to live. Like she didn't need him.

"You promised me you'd save yourself! Just like you, to make promises you can't keep! You stupid bastard!"

She tried to see him through her tears, but his face blurred, he was just a whirl of white and brown and gold.

"I'm going to make sure you have that stupid ballad carved into your tomb, just so that all the world will forever remember what a clueless, pompous, bastard you were! Do you hear me?"

"Elissa," Nathaniel said.

She didn't turn to him. "I hate you!"

"Elissa!" The rogue called her attention with more force.

"_What?_"

"I think the afanc is free."

She followed his gaze out the door. The sun was still at its zenith, but black clouds were beginning to form. As she watched the perfect blue sky blackened until the sun was completely covered, the sky as dark as night and the countryside cast in gloom. Plague. They had to get to the Circle Tower. Now.

"Come on," she whimpered, "help me find something to build a pyre."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**Retroactive Prevention Isn't Even A Real Thing**

–

They ran all the way to the Tower, not pausing for a break. The clouds in the sky blotted out the sun and Nathaniel was beginning to think they weren't clouds of water. The air was thick was insects, stripping down the trees and bushes around Lake Calenhad. Nathaniel could barely see his way but for the golden armour that Elissa had taken up, which caught any glint of light, lit up like a beacon and showed him where to follow.

They had left Alistair's corpse burning outside Mercy's temple, Elissa couldn't bear to have his pyre in the same room as his killer. Nathaniel just hoped that she could get this monster killed, the look in her eyes was scaring him, he thought she might suffocate on her own shuddering breaths as they lit the fire. Now she carried the king's blade and wore his armour, and he had to wonder if she was actually planning to survive this.

The surface of the lake was becoming choppy, stirred up by the winds. It turned the shores into a thick grey mud which seemed to... move?

"Liss, we need to move."

Elissa glanced back at him, then over to where the shores seethed with life. Frogs, toads, snakes, crabs, all creeping up the banks toward them, covered in mud so it seemed like the lake itself was after them. The commander redoubled her efforts, to her credit she didn't look as startled as he felt by this new development. The docks were in sight.

"I don't think that's the last of our problems," she murmured, looking around the forest.

Nathaniel followed her gaze and broke out sprinting. The animals of the forest, usually tame and timid in these areas, were amassing at the edge of the paths. From rats and rabbits to bears and wolves, they started to run, crazed. He grabbed Elissa's hand, pulling her along with his longer stride. The animals started to howl.

The air was filled with inhuman cries, the swarms of insects, the creatures of water and land, all crying together to form a deafening shriek. The creatures were gaining on them, and Nathaniel didn't like their chances against every beast in the forest. Elissa pressed a hand to her forehead, the veins in her elbows bursting. He felt the stab of spirit pain and some of the smaller creatures dropped dead behind them.

He had never been to this area before, but at the docks a templar registered a flash of recognition at the commander, looking around at the impending chaos. Poor bastard. Nathaniel hoped that no one else in the area was caught outside, the inn seemed sealed up well enough and he couldn't see any other bystanders except the unfortunate templar. He couldn't say how far the effect extended, it could be wreaking havoc across the Bannorn for all they knew.

A wolf caught Nathaniel's bow between its teeth and he had to loose its catch, letting it fall. The heartwood was torn to splinters in seconds, crushed under the stampeding horde. The beasts were nearly upon them, but the docks were approaching rapidly.

"Move, move, move!" Elissa roared at the startled templar.

They caught him between their twined hands, tackling him backward into the little rowboat just as the docks fell to the mob. The boat skittered across the surface of the water with their momentum, pushing them a few feet into safety.

"You!" The templar cried. "This is somehow you fault, I can feel it."

"Just row, Carroll," Elissa sighed.

Nathaniel picked up one oar and handed the other to Carroll, who begrudgingly took it and started to row.

Elissa sank down to the bottom of the boat, a hand to her chest. Her eyes didn't see anything, she looked like all her attention was focussed solely on continuing to breathe. He was sympathetic, it didn't take any kind of genius to see what Alistair had done by sacrificing himself, he'd torn her heart out. But he kept a close eye on her, she'd have to pull herself together once they arrived at the Tower. An incompetent warrior was of no use to him. No matter how grief stricken she was, they'd unleashed something terrible and now they needed to put it back down.

She lay on her back, staring at the sky and taking deep, wheezing breaths. He wouldn't be surprised if she'd broken a few ribs, considering how badly Mercy had beaten her about.

In all his days he had never seen anything so terrifying as Elissa when she took down Mercy. He had known that she had taken part in some blood magic, had drunk the blood of a high dragon and could call on the Fade like Justice, but he'd never thought she could do what she'd done, never thought anyone would want to. The way blood dripped from her pores, her eyes turned black, she had cleaved the spirit's knees clean in half with a single blunt blow. And the noise. No human throat could produce that sound.

"What have you done?" Carroll asked.

"We're undoing it, aren't we?" Nathaniel said.

"I wouldn't know, all I see are a couple of Wardens causing trouble. Again."

Elissa stood up, her eyes fixed on the sky.

"I don't think this is the right time to be bickering."

A bird call caught Nathaniel's attention and he looked up. Damn, he should have figured this would happen.

A thousand birds were massing in the sky, a flock of every species. A crow swooped down on the boat, nearly toppling Elissa. Then another. They had to row faster, it wasn't that far to the tower. He wished he had his bow, then he could at least thin the flock. He knew the pain aura was coming and was unsurprised to see Elissa raise her hands to begin channelling. More birds began swooping them.

Thunder rolled above them, the insects and clouds mingling and lightning cracking across the sky.

The flock of birds dove as one, and for once Nathaniel was glad to feel the sting of her aura of pain. The birds scattered as they hit, shrieking in agony and anger.

"They're going to tear the boat apart!" Carroll yelled.

"They'll tear _us_ apart if you don't row faster," Elissa growled.

Lightning lit up the world like daylight, striking on the shore. He could almost see what was going to happen before it did. The trees burst into flame, the fire spreading along the shore at an impossible speed. Around them birds plummeted into the water, breaking against an invisible shield around the boat. The town was going to be burnt up if it hadn't already been destroyed by the stampede.

His arms were burning from the exertion but he couldn't give up now. The Tower was within sight, they could have swam the distance if horrors weren't surely lurking just beneath the water.

Elissa was on her feet and wading through the shallows before they even reached the dock.

They hit the shore and Nathaniel turned.

The fire was raging inland, the animals so thick on the ground that it appeared to be living, writhing earth. Lightning was still striking the land, the air thick with insects, birds and swirling black clouds. The sight caught his breath in his throat. It looked like the end of days.

The birds were circling around for another attack and Elissa dragged him forward, snapping him back to reality. Her aura was gone, the three of them ran for the Circle Tower door. It felt like the world was collapsing behind them as they ran, the noise was enormous, the danger potent. The entire place was trembling down around them.

Carroll threw open the doors and they burst inside, slamming the doors behind them and pressing their weight against the barrier as the birds slammed against the stone wall behind them.

Nathaniel was breathing hard, he closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath enough to keep going. His chest and arms were aching. That had been close. This was very quickly spiralling out of control. He opened his eyes to see an array of very surprised mages and templars.

"Irving, Greagoir," Elissa greeted. "Nice to see you again."

"Warden Elissa, what is going on here?" A grey haired templar demanded.

"There's no harrowing going on is there? We need the chamber." She completely ignored his question.

She didn't wait for his answer, instead nodding to Nathaniel and breaking into a run. He followed her, trusting her to lead the way since he had never seen this place before. The people in the entry shouted objections after them, but they didn't have time to argue. He could only imagine the devastation spreading across the Bannorn, they had to stop this and they had to stop it now. They took the stairs two at a time, up four flights. Both were a wreck by the time they came to the harrowing chamber.

Elissa opened up her _Encyclopaedia_ and scanned the contents. She took a potion from her pouch and shook it, Nathaniel could only guess it was the one she had to add the blood to. She hadn't been very specific on how they were to reach the monster, just telling him that they needed to end up in the harrowing chamber. He just assumed that they could summon it from here, or tear the veil, as he knew it was weak in this room.

"Okay, I'm going to head into the maze, there's no point in us both going. If I lose my wits, if enough time goes past and the plagues don't stop, you'll have to follow me. Killing the afanc is priority one, even if we can't collect the blood."

"Understood."

She sighed, closing the book, then reached up and ran her fingers over his cheek. She pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Thank you for being here, Nathaniel."

He nodded, unsure of his words.

Elissa broke into a run, surprising him. She sprinted across the room, the extra weight from Alistair's armour adding to her momentum. Nathaniel watched, wide eyed, and called out for her to stop, but she didn't. She crashed straight through the far window, at the last second leaping into a swan dive, taking her down into the deepest part of Lake Calenhad.

Elissa watched the water come up to meet her and took a deep breath.

It was like diving into an ice bath, the cold completely paralysed her. She wanted to gasp for warm air, but the weight of her fall and her armour didn't let her get anywhere near the surface. It was black, her light pendant barely piercing the gloom, and the only way she could tell up from down was by letting Alistair's armour drag her down. Her lungs were already aching from lack of air. This wasn't how she wanted to die.

It was strangely peaceful underwater. She couldn't see the fire, hear the chaos. The nightmare on the surface seemed to be a thousand miles away.

She couldn't see the sky anymore and felt its absence acutely. Logically she knew that she was sinking, that was down. She was sinking downwards and the opposite way was upwards. But somehow she felt like she was tumbling, whipped about by currents, she was diving down, then sideways, then across, unable to keep her direction constant. All she could see was black and all she could feel were unreasonable forces pulling her in impossible directions. She wanted so badly to take a breath.

A school of fish swam before her, silver in the glow from her pendant. These, at least, seemed unaffected by the madness. She was falling forever, fish, rocks and weeds her only measure of distance. Surely she had to hit the bottom soon. There couldn't be this much water in one lake, it didn't make sense. Up was down, down was up, the water was infinite.

Suddenly a light flared above her. Elissa squinted, trying to make sense of it. It was a flare that could pierce any darkness, a massive fire. She couldn't understand. It was above the surface. There was nothing that big above the surface, except the tower itself.

The tower. She remembered the Tower of Ishal, where Alistair had slain that ogre while she lit the signal. The whole top floor of the tower had nearly exploded. That was it. The harrowing chamber was on fire.

_Nathaniel_.

He had set the tower on fire, showing her the way home. The mages were going to kill him.

Her feet hit the bottom of the lake and she started searching. She needed the deepest part of the lake, she didn't have much time before she suffocated. Her lungs were burning. There was no magic, no potion that could grant her air. The bottom of the lake was just endless mud, punctuated with rock outcrops, under the soft glow of her pendant.

She struggled forward, her armour keeping her on the ground. Nothing, just endless grey-green. The mud caught at her feet, the rocks provided no purchase, she pulled herself forward with her hands, using the rocks as holds.

A flash of movement caught her attention.

It was the same colour and texture as the mud. The pictures had not done it justice. It reminded her more of a gorilla in shape, with massive shoulders and arms and disproportionately small legs. A long tail thrashed out behind it and Elissa saw her goal. She tore off Alistair's armour. It felt wrong to see the gold sink into the mud, her last reminder of him lost forever, but she refused to let his sacrifice be in vain.

She pushed off the rock gracefully, at home in the water despite her rapidly fading vision, her body screaming for air. It was almost too easy.

Avernus had promised her that the creature would be weak, too weak to fight her, and he hadn't lied. She snagged the tail in an iron grip and looked for Nathaniel's signal. The afanc swam against her, but it was overpowered and had no claws or teeth to loosen her grip. Rubbery hands pawed at her fist, trying to free itself. She held tight. Her vision was starting to tunnel. She saw the light, her salvation, she just had to swim toward it.

She pushed upwards, eyes fixed on the light. The water turned her around, but she kept swimming, keeping the light in her view and even as she felt like she was descending again, felt like she was swimming sideways, her mind screaming at her to right herself, she just swam toward that light.

The surface came as a complete surprise. As she broke the water she nearly let go of her prize, so confusing was the sensation. She heaved a breath into her burning lungs.

Her eyes still fixed on the beacon, she saw the tower become overwhelmed by the birds and insects, the flock tearing through the harrowing chamber, breaking itself, breaking the stone. A single figure, indistinguishable in the false night, fell lifelessly from the top. She didn't let herself realise who it was, what had just happened, she had to kill this beast, had to stop this ravaging or he would not be the last to die.

Maker, she never meant for it to end like this. If she'd known, she wouldn't have done this, she would have fallen on her blade like she originally planned. This was too high a price to pay.

With a roar, all the grief and anger in her chest welling into a single outcry, she dashed the afanc against the rocks. It squealed in pain and she climbed up next to it. She wanted to make it suffer, but there was no time. Oh, Maker, she wanted it to pay. Pay for Nathaniel, pay for Dog. Pay for Alistair. There was no torture too severe, even if she had the rest of her life to plan and execute. So instead she pulled Alistair's blade from her hip.

It seemed so wrong, that this snivelling, squawking mud golem could cause this much damage. It was an oversized rat, yet it commanded the beasts and the skies, already the lake was lit with the fires that gradually raged away from the shores, spreading their decimation further over already ravaged brush and forest. There were no stars in this unnatural night.

She speared the afance, slid the blade straight through its heart, and didn't let it bleed to death. With a final swipe its head went rolling. The creature stilled. The screaming in the air stopped so suddenly that it left a ringing silence. Light began to pierce the swarm above her.

Elissa knelt beside the corpse and, although it was the furthest thing from her mind, although it made her stomach roll and flip, she pulled the sealed potion from her pouch and uncorked it. Blood dribbled over the lip of the bottle. They hadn't died in vain, their sacrifice meant something, to them if not to her. If their spirits could still see her from the Fade, she wanted them to know that she had succeeded, the cause they had given their lives for had overcome.

The potion swirled, red mixing with green and turning an electric shade of blue.

Elissa stared.

Misfortune most severe.

She almost choked on dry laughter. That didn't even begin to describe it. Oh, Maker, they were dead. It was over and they were dead. They'd promised her that they wouldn't die for her, but they lied. She sunk down to lie against the rocks. She'd have to find Nathaniel's body, give him a proper funeral. She'd have to send word to Denerim, tell them their king was dead. She didn't cry or scream at the thought, all her grief had settled into a deep, unbearable agony in her chest.

This would mean a succession war. She could see the accusing eyes of Eamon, Teagan, Delilah, Thomas. This was disgrace on Amaranthine, on her house, on the Wardens. Maker, they were gone. She'd never see them again. Nathaniel's dry wit, Alistair's radiant grin. There were no more shadows lurking in her bedroom, waiting patiently for her to notice. There was no golden figure striding down the road to Vigil's Keep, a dozen silver knights at his back. How had life seemed so good only a couple of weeks ago?

She looked between the phial in one hand and the blade in the other. She could join him. Her skin was so cold that it wouldn't even hurt. He'd give her that disapproving frown, one eyebrow quirked as he waited for an explanation, but it wouldn't last. Soon his face would fall into a smile and he'd kiss her again, warm and gold in her arms. Elissa choked back a sob at the thought. Alistair deserved better than that. They both did. She couldn't kill them on her wild mission and then abandon it before completion.

There was only one thing she could do to honour their memory, and it was the one thing she didn't want to do. She had to live.

Elissa raised the potion to her lips, and after a moment's hesitation drank deeply.

The glass phial bounced off the rocks, slipping, empty, from her weakened hand. She closed her eyes and waited. The potion burned down the back of her throat and settled, hot, in her belly. She held a hand against her face, as if this was going to magically reverse the scar she covered. Nothing happened for a long moment, and she almost hoped that nothing would. Maybe Avernus was wrong, maybe this potion had been tested and was just useless, the recipe left to rot in that tower because it was of no importance.

A pain shot through her spine, so severe that she would have screamed if her throat hadn't closed shut. Her eyes flew open, her mouth gasping, her body no longer in her own control. The moment seemed to stretch into eternity, she had never felt this kind of pain, she didn't know if she'd survive it. Her vision clouded with white, like the endless mists of the Fade.

The pain was swept away as quickly as it had come by the clouds that enveloped her, she felt her body lift up off the ground and the thought crossed her mind that maybe the potion had killed her. Her whole world was cold and white, she was weightless, floating. Echoes of the past overwhelmed her.

_You know of Mercy, Warden Commander._

_...it's hurting us all..._

_Elissa, that wasn't how it happened. You know that._

_...get it off your chest._

_There's nothing unresolved._

_You speak of hope, and I believe you._

_What are you hiding?_

_...some rather informative duelling lessons._

… _might be able to stop her from getting into a situation where her life is at stake..._

_If correctly prepared, the blood of the afanc shall transform the drinker into the same beast._

_Never shall this evil again walk the land, the Maker shall not allow it._

_...misfortune most severe..._

_How did you... get that?_

_...wasn't recruited, he was conscripted._

"That's a very severe look you're giving the empty street."

Elissa stumbled, suddenly upright. Her head spun at the sudden change of position, from floating on a cloud to standing on her own two feet in a heartbeat. Her feet sought purchase on a stone floor, she was no longer freezing cold and soaked to the bone, the air here was dry. She took in a deep breath. A pair of hands landed on her shoulders, steadying her.

She looked around, trying to clear the disorientation. She was inside, it was night, real night, books, flowers, wall hangings, Andraste's symbol, she was in a... chantry? Her eyes turned to the window she faced, seeing dead bodies of Darkspawn and humans alike littering the streets. Amaranthine? The hands on her shoulders squeezed and she realised she knew those hands.

"Nathaniel?"

He was there, alive. Smiling, holding her steady. Maker, she was hallucinating, she was dead and this was an illusion of the Fade. But it didn't feel like one. His hands were strong and warm on her shoulders, his smile as wry and reserved as ever. She could feel his pulse through his thumbs on her collarbone. _Alive_.

"I apologise, ser," he said. "I didn't mean to startle you. You must have your thoughts taken up by tomorrow's battle."

Ser? Tomorrow's battle? The night came back to her in a rush. Amaranthine, the night before fighting the broodmother. The armour he was wearing had been burnt in that fight, unusable thereafter. This was the first night they had sex, the night she gave up on Alistair, the night she didn't make adequate preparations for the coming battle, the night that set off the series of events that led to her freeing the afanc. Her hand flew to her face. No scar.

Elissa fought off the urge to burst out laughing. Retroactive prevention.

"No," she said, barely able to talk through her wonder. "I'm sorry, I was just... miles away."

The Maker wouldn't let the afanc free, and he wouldn't let another one be created once the first was killed. The only way to make sure was to cut off the chain reaction at the first link. Allow her to prevent the poison ever entering her system.

"Well... I won't disturb you any longer. Goodnight, ser."

"Wait, Nathaniel," she stopped him at the door. "There's a quartermaster out there, right? Could you do me a favour and see if he has an avenveil or a full face helm? I feel like I'm going to need some extra protection tomorrow."

Nathaniel bowed his head. "Of course, ser."

The door clicked shut behind him and Elissa let a bubble of laughter escape her lips. Impossible.


	10. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**Little Birds Are Dirty Gossips**

–

"_...the throngs of dead tormented the village,_

_their evil ways a nightly pillage;_

_but against his might no demon could hold,_

_the beast fell to Alistair the Gold..._"

Elissa sat atop the battlements, watching the road that led to Denerim with a few of her army heads. Anders leaned back against the half-broken wall, casually flicking grapes at her while she ate her own bunch. Dog the Second tried to catch the tiny projectiles, falling headfirst into Elissa's lap more than once in his enthusiasm. Oghren and Sigrun led the singing on this idle afternoon, their tankards already full with Rendon Howe's prize ale. The sun beat down on them and she was immensely glad she had taken the afternoon off to lounge around with her friends and sing drinking songs.

Nathaniel was leading the rogue training in the forest, still as strong and healthy as she had ever seen him, happily riling up Velanna whenever he had the chance. Usually Sigrun would be leading the rogues for their stealth training, but Elissa had decided that today was a very good day to have Nathaniel as far from the Keep as possible.

She adjusted her brigandine, allowing the top few ties to loosen to accommodate her burgeoning assets. Her hair was brushed and tied back in what Mistress Woolsey assured her was a flattering style and her lips had been reddened, she wouldn't let anyone with eye makeup near her. Really, though, Avernus had turned out to be her best beautician. Her breasts just wouldn't sit right in this brigandine, threatening to bust free at any moment. She had only endured the treatment for a few days last time, and having just downed her second dose that morning, making a total of thirty two days this round, she was finding out just how luscious she could get. If Oghren propositioned her one more time she was going to have to kick him. Apart from her right hand becoming her new best friend, it was much more tolerable this time around.

Elissa swung her legs back and forth over the edge of the wall, happily rolling one of Dog's ears between her fingers, much to the puppy's pleasure, and sung along with the ballad. It wouldn't be long now. The Keep was looking like a proper castle instead of a warrior's playground and her bombardiers had been given inescapably strict instructions to practise their arts elsewhere for the day. They were a veritable epitome of dignity, aside, perhaps, for the lax behaviour of their Arlessa and her friends.

They lounged in the high sunlight until the distant sounds of armoured troops marching reached the Keep. The watchman perked up. Elissa closed her eyes, basking in the sun, not watching the approaching party round the corner.

"Who goes!" The watchman bellowed, making the boneless sloths jump.

"High King Alistair Theirin," Elissa murmured. The shouted reply echoed her exactly.

"You know, one of these days you'll have to tell us the source of your newfound clairvoyance," Anders said.

Elissa didn't reply, slipping down off the wall to land in a crouch in front of the gates. The others grumbled to varying degrees and took the more sedate stairs, arriving to flank her just as the royal party reached the gates. She'd known he was alive, she'd sent word to Denerim asking after him, she'd heard of his various exploits over the last month, but to see him for the first time since her trip into surreality nearly turned her bones to jelly.

She forgot to kneel, just staring at him, a delighted smile spreading across her face.

His perfect facade of calm cracked, taken by surprise by the earnest happiness on her face. He didn't speak, an extended moment of silence between the two courts as his eyes scanned her, drinking in her appearance, his lips parting slightly. Elissa grasped her elbows behind her back, letting one hip swing out to the side ever so slightly, she bit her bottom lip under his scrutiny, aware of the figure she cut.

He was so beautiful, he didn't even know it. She should have been bowing, greeting him, but his tongue darted out to wet his perfectly rounded lips and she was captivated. Her heart beat wildly in her chest.

"Elissa," Alistair said, her name seeming to spring from his lips without his consent.

"Sire."

"You knew I was coming?"

"A little bird told me," she shrugged. His eyes were locked on hers with an intensity that was almost frightening.

"Oh."

"I'm sure you'll be very pleased with the progress the Keep has made since you were last here. This time it doesn't have any Darkspawn to speak of, unless you count Oghren."

"Hey!" The dwarf objected.

She was rewarded with a timid, off-balance smile. "Yes, I... I did come to see the Keep."

"Of course, the Silver Order has been anxious for your visit. We have a few innovative training techniques that your own guards might benefit from."

"I did hear a rumour that you've been attempting to blow up the Keep." His eyes were darting over her and then flicking back to her face, he was barely focussed on his words.

Elisa grinned. "This is the first time in two weeks our explosives engineer had given the recruits a break from grenade training, I would have liked you to see it but you may have to take a bed for the night if you want to feel the earth shaking."

Alistair choked, his ears pink, and she knew from memory that the blush extended right down his chest. She offered him her most innocent look, knowing that he'd fall for it. Sometimes it was just too easy.

"Ah, yes, I had planned to stay long enough to see the... uh... the training."

"I'll look forward to keeping you. Please consider me entirely at your disposal."

She shouldn't be enjoying this quite so much. Alistair was so easily flustered and she had him struck dumb. She didn't want to embarrass him, but he looked so adorable when his brain shorted out like that and made him fumble for something to say, something that she couldn't turn into anything dirty.

"It's good to see you looking so... well."

"And yourself, sire," Elissa said. "But I'm keeping you standing, sire, let me get my seneschal to quarter you and your knights."

She turned to beckon Varel and saw Sigrun biting down on her tongue furiously to keep from laughing. Damn drunk dwarves. Varel was at her side in seconds and she murmured a few requests in his ear, infinitely glad that he had not been there to hear her mercilessly teasing the king. The seneschal nodded to her and indicated for the king to follow him, but Alistair stepped forward, ignoring the older man for the moment.

"Elissa," he caught her eyes, all embarrassment gone. "Before I let you get back to teasing me, just tell me: Are you happy here?"

He needed to hear it, needed to know the truth, all teasing aside.

Elissa smiled at him, honest and genuine.

"Sire, I couldn't be happier if you dipped me in chocolate."

She bowed deeply and stepped away, letting the poor man be led away by Varel. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that his eyes were still fixed on her, his lips parted, even as he walked. Finally she let a grin overtake her face. The look of hunger in his eyes shot straight down her spine, giving her a blush to match his own.

"Well, Warden," Oghren said, "from the look on that boy's face, I'd call that a perfect ten."

Elissa laughed, following the dwarf back into the Keep.

He'd told her that this visit would have ended in him begging to be forgiven if not for Nathaniel. He said that he wanted her back because he regretted his decision, not because he was jealous. Time would tell. She closed her eyes and turned her face to the sun, letting it warm her skin. The Keep was happy, the warriors were skilled, the trade was flowing, her puppy was frolicking, she had her very own seneschal, her very first ten, and Alistair Theirin was alive.

She had all the time in the world.


End file.
